


Straight Trade

by alexjanna91



Series: Straight Trade [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jessica Moore Lives, Past Character Death, Sam Winchester Dies, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 88,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12280374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjanna91/pseuds/alexjanna91
Summary: Jess’s life was destroyed. She’d watched her boyfriend burn up on the ceiling and the only person that can give her answers was the relative stranger that carried her out of the fire and saved her life. Sam’s long lost brother Dean.





	1. Straight Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was an easy decision to make and Sam didn’t hesitate.

*

At first Sam hadn’t noticed it happening. He’d been feeling it since he’d stepped out of the Impala, Dean saying goodbye with sad eyes and the unspoken knowledge that it was the last time they would see each other. Feeling it like the rolling darkness in the sky before a storm. It was thrumming and thick in his throat, just barely touching his awareness. The smell of fresh baked cookies and the sound of the shower running were soothing his raw nerves; made it easy to ignore that ominous feeling in the air. 

The taste of chocolate on his tongue and the smell of Jess’s perfume in his nose were trying to lull him like a lullaby. Then Jess’s blood dripped down onto his skin and he opened his eyes to the sight of her pinned to the ceiling with a gash in her belly. His entire world exploded. 

He saw it all. The future, their destiny -his and Dean’s- unfurled before him and it was terrifying. Blood and torture, betrayal, and death, and evil. So much evil it soaked into everything, it painted their futures oozy black. The Demons and their plans would taint them. It would kill them; Jess, Dad, Dean, him, one way or another, no one would be spared. The ruthless mechanics of their future would beat them down until there was barely anything left of what made Sam and Dean Winchester. 

They would lose everything. 

Really, the decision was so very easy to make. 

The power had always been there, Sam just hadn’t realized until it was surging inside him like a hurricane. It was so rotten, tainted, but it would fix everything and that’s all Sam cared about. 

His love, for Jess and Dean and Dad, was so strong Sam was breathless with it. It pushed at the demonic power inside him until everything was tinted with fire and it was suffocating him. Sam reached up with hands and mind and grasped at Jess. He grabbed hold of her and didn’t let go until he felt the hard unforgiving surface of the ceiling at his back, the jagged pain of being gutted, and the agony of being burned alive. 

A straight trade. A death for a death. It would change their destiny and Sam didn’t regret it one bit. 

Jess was crumpled on the bed beneath him bleeding and burnt and staring up at him with terrified, grief stricken eyes. God, he loved her and she was alive and that’s all that mattered. 

Through the haze of pain and fire and dying Sam saw Dean. He was shocked and horrified surrounded by the blazing demon fire and trying frantically to think of a way to save his little brother. Sam met his brother’s eyes in his last dying breaths. For the first time in years they connected in mind and soul and Sam knew everything would be okay. 

Finally, he let himself go. 

*

Staring up at his little brother burning up pinned to the ceiling, Dean was frozen in horror. Sam was dying and for the first time in his life there was nothing Dean could do. He wanted to die with him. So consumed by his fear and grief, he barely even registered his brother’s girl curled up bleeding on the bed beneath Sam. 

It should have been impossible, but Sam’s beautiful hazel eyes met Dean’s and their life long synchronization finally snapped back into place. 

Go, Dean. It was a whisper in his mind and Dean understood. Run.

Tearing his eyes away from his brother burning alive on the ceiling, Dean lunged forward and dragged Jess off the bed. It was already on fire, like the rest of the room, and there was no time to waste. She was limp and shaking and weakly fighting his hold, but Dean lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing and ran. Out of the room, out of the apartment, and into the street. 

Dean didn’t look back. 

*

TBC…


	2. Crash Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was probably the only thing keeping her sane; the crash course Dean was giving her in all things dark and scary. The only thing that made her feel safe now; Dean's constant reassuring presence at her side.

*  
Jess’s dreams were filled with fire. It licked at her like it was taunting her and scorched her skin wickedly. She couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t move. The air was thick like wax soaking her, suffocating her slowly. She was pressed so hard to the ceiling it felt like her bones were being crushed. It was torture and most terrifying was the slice across her belly. It split her almost in half, gutting her. The wound bled unnaturally slowly one drop at a time and she was sure the only reason her intestines weren’t hanging down to the floor was the waxy thick air pinning her to the ceiling.

These horrific dreams of remembered pain and fear weren’t the worst thing that her unconscious mind tormented her with. It was the abrupt shift in perspective, the sudden gasp of smoke filling her lungs, and the image of Sam pinned above her like a butterfly beneath glass. He was nearly gutted, like her, and he was bleeding and burning. His expression, though, was serene. And his eyes, they showed no fear, just love and sadness and, under that, triumph. 

Over and over, her nightmares repeated like a bloodied broken record allowing her no rest. The shock of waking up was a balm on her tortured mind. A breathing tube down her throat, tubes coming out of her from too many places, and a muted gauzy pain throbbing through her body were the perfect distraction. 

When Jess eyes opened to the blurry sight of a bland hospital room, her mother asleep on the pullout chair next to her bed, tears of grief and relief began to trickle down her cheeks.

*

The doctors said she would scar. Third degree burns across her shoulders, the back of her thighs and calves; they were tender and raw and painful under the weight of her body. She’ll never be able to wear a bikini again, she’ll never be able to have an even tan, and her skin would forever be puckered and warped like melted plastic. Concentrating on the superficial things helped keep her sane those first few days of consciousness.

The jagged gash across her belly had been more worrying. There had been talk of muscle damage and the dubious future of her being able to have children. The scar would never go away and Jess could give no explanation for how her belly got split open in the middle of a house fire. There wasn’t much pressing for answers though since everyone seemed more worried about the permanent reminders of the worst night of her life having an adverse effect on her mind. 

Jess wasn’t sure how to feel about that since her mind was filled with other things. Things that seemed vastly more important than the large, ugly scars now littering her body. She definitely wasn’t going to voice them out loud, though. No matter how much her worried mother urged her to talk or her dad used cajoling pet names from her childhood. Jess kept her mouth shut.

Friends came and went; a couple professors, her guidance counselor, the cops. All with carefully worded probing questions. The cops were the worst. 

There was an investigation. House fires weren’t uncommon, but the fact that their apartment seemed to be the only one in the complex affected was apparently enough cause to investigate. The cops questioned her, asking the same ones over and over again. She had no answers for them. She said, _I don’t remember, I don’t know, I don’t remember_. 

Jess had never lied so much in her life. But what could she tell them? What could she tell anyone? That a man with yellow eyes appeared in her apartment and pinned her to the ceiling? That her boyfriend looked up at her with glowing golden eyes as her blood dripped down on him and suddenly he had taken her place? That his brother had been sneaking into her hospital room in the dead of night to chant in tongues over her bed and perform rituals in the four corners of her room? That he spent the entire night unblinkingly watching the door with a gun in his hand and a rosary wrapped around his wrist?

No, Jess didn’t tell the cops anything. She didn’t tell her friends, her teachers, or her parents. Thankfully, for her continued freedom from psychiatric observation, traumatic amnesia was actually a thing and everyone seemed all too eager to accept that as an excuse. 

Visiting hours were over and Jess was staring up at the ceiling, the image of Sam pinned and bleeding superimposed over the institutional ceiling tiles. Her mind was spinning, fighting with what she once knew about her world and what she’d seen. The handle on the heavy hospital door jiggled and light from the hallway spilled into the room as Jess’s late night visitor slipped in unseen. 

Suddenly, she just couldn’t do it anymore. 

“I’m not going to pretend to be asleep this time.” 

Dean paused mid-step and the air between them became heavy and thick. Jess kept staring up at the ceiling, Sam’s eyes boring down on her from her imagination. 

“I haven’t told anyone about you,” she said breaking the silence and telling the truth for the first time since her life as she knew it had ended. “The cops have been asking questions. They think it was arson and I didn’t tell anyone about you. No one knows Sam was with you.” 

The only response she got was the sound of his breathing, like he was struggling to suck in air around a knot in his throat. 

“Tell me I’m not crazy.” Jess’s breath hitched and she struggled to keep it steady. Pushing herself painfully up onto her elbows she looked at Dean for the first time. 

He looked almost as bad as she did. So pale with grief that even in the dim light of her room his freckles stood out against his skin. His eyes were ringed in exhausted shadows so deep he looked gaunt. All he did was breathe for a long moment and Jess started to wonder if he was even going to acknowledge that she’d spoken. 

With a shuddering breath he finally turned his gaze to look at her. Her chest ached at the pain reflected in his green eyes. 

“You’re not crazy,” he said voice rough with disuse. Jess almost collapsed with relief and despair both. There was no comfort in the truth for her. 

“Tell me,” she demanded. 

Dean straightened, squaring his shoulders, his expression grave and his eyes ages older than his body. “There’s no going back from this,” he told her. “Once you know the truth there is no forgetting. That’s it. Your life will never be the same.”

Jess felt a surge of anger and it was good to feel something other than grief. 

“Fuck you, Dean. My life stopped being the same when I got stuck to a ceiling. So don’t pull that bullshit on me,” she growled at him, her fierce glare daring him to try that again. There was no turning back for her. She didn’t think she’d live very long if she even tried.

Dean’s eyes widened, taken aback by her vehemence, but he quickly schooled his expression. Jess could have sworn in the split second between shifts there’d been a flicker of approval.

“Twenty-two years ago, on Sam’s sixth month birthday, something came into our house and pinned our mom to the ceiling of Sam’s nursery.” So he began the story of how their family was destroyed in a single night. 

Jess didn’t even try to stop the ragged sobs as she listened. Tears were tracking down her cheeks for the first time since she woke up to her life destroyed in a single night. 

*

After she learned the truth of Sam’s life before Stanford, Jess felt like one weight had been lifted from her shoulders only for another one to replace it. The reality of the supernatural was terrifying and the fact that it didn’t end with ghosts and Hollywood monsters kept her up at night. 

Her parents commented on the bags under her eyes, but she was able to placate their concerns with a few tears and a murmured mumble of Sam’s name. She felt guilty for it, but when she’d said so to Dean he brushed it aside with a vague comment about getting out of an arrest with a sob story about their dead mother. 

With the knowledge of the things that go bump in the night spinning through her mind only one thing was keeping her from going completely crazy with fear pinned down in her hospital bed as she was. The fact that every night Dean would sneak into her room and give her a crash course in all things freaky. 

“Okay so what’s with the rebar?” Jess asked as Dean laid bars across the windowsill and above the doorjamb. 

“It’s iron,” Dean explained. “Ghosts and spirits, anything incorporeal, can’t cross it.” He finished sliding a bar into place and pulled a plastic grocery sack out of the backpack he’d brought with him. It sounded like it was filled with some kind of shells. “Usually you’d use salt, but I figure it would be kinda hard to clean up before the nurses do their rounds in the morning.” 

“That makes sense,” Jess agreed absently as she followed Dean with her eyes while he placed a cluster of weird looking shells strategically around the room. “And the sea shells?”

“Cat’s eye shells,” Dean answered. “Five shells in a compass rose on the four points of the compass is like a supernatural deterrent. Like mosquito spray, makes ‘em avoid you.” 

“Okay,” she drawled dubiously, but she figured that if Dean, the expert on all things scary, said they worked she’d take his word for it. It’s not like she knew anything about any of this beyond bad Hollywood B movies.

She watched quietly while Dean went back into his backpack and pulled out a battered, ancient looking leather bound book and a water bottle with a rosary in the bottom. He popped the water bottle’s sport top and squirted water around the room while reading from the book muttering in what sounded like Latin. He made a circuit round the room three times before stopping at the foot of her bed. Flipping to a different passage in his little book, he squirted her with water and repeated whatever he was reading out three times.

Jess felt silly sitting there getting sprinkled with what she felt safe to assume was holy water. She hadn’t been blessed, she assumed she was being blessed, like that since she’d had first communion when she was nine. It didn’t help the oddness of the situation that Dean looked absolutely nothing like a priest with his biker boots, faded jeans, and leather jacket. 

Dean finally appeared to have finished, snapping the book shut and closing the sport bottle. He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow at her mildly incredulous look. 

“What?”

“You speak Latin? Are you ordained or something?” She was willing to believe it if he said he was. After finding out that chupacabras were actually a thing she was open to the idea that Sam’s biker looking brother was a priest.

Dean snorted as he dumped his Christian paraphernalia back into the backpack and started to root around in it again. “Hell no. I don’t believe there’s a God. I just use whatever works and Christian rituals are the best when you’re up against demons.”

The mention of demons made a thrill of fear run through her, but Jess shoved it down to focus on the subject at hand. 

“Where did you learn all this stuff, then?”

“Dad used to leave us with a friend, a pastor, when he went on solo hunts. He taught us Latin and all the prayers and blessings.” Dean shrugged faux casual, but he paused staring unseeing into his backpack. “Sam was always better at that stuff than me.”

They fell into a tense silence and Jess tried to distract herself from her resurgence of grief with observing Dean. He shook off his painful thoughts and finally found what he’d been searching for. 

Pulling out a dream catcher, Jess watched him step up to the stand for the bags of saline for her IV and hung it up next to them. It looked like an actual authentic dream catcher made out of sinew, leather, glass beads, and feathers. The kind you imagine a wizened greying Native American making by hand. Jess had no doubt that it was actually the real deal. Judging by the sheer amount of supernatural protection Dean was spreading around the room, she didn’t think he’d do anything half-assed. 

Dean hesitated for a second then reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a leather pouch with a weird symbol on the side. It looked like it could have been drawn on in blood. She suspected it actually was blood, Dean’s blood she guessed since his left hand was wrapped in gauze. 

Jess eyed the blood stained leather bag warily. “What exactly is that?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, “It’s a hex bag,” he said. “This one’s used to promote healing, fight infection, and help with pain.”

She softened and looked up into Dean’s unsure expression. “You made that for me?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I promised to take care of you.” His eyes turned dark and determined. “I keep my promises.”

Jess’s heart gave a squeeze and she swallowed around a lump in her throat. She met Dean’s heavy gaze giving him a ghost of smile and a nod. Reaching out with a surprisingly steady hand she took the hex bag from him. When her skin touched the soft leather she felt a surprising wave of warmth wash over her. She turned it over curiously, examining it. 

“So, what do I do with it?” 

Dean huffed and gestured in her direction. “Put it somewhere close to you, hidden so you don’t freak out the civilians.”

Looking around, Jess finally settled on shoving it in her pillowcase. It would stay out of sight and she’ll be able to grab it without being seen when the nurses came to change her bedding. Dean nodded approvingly then turned and went to collapse into the recliner in the corner of the room that stretched out into a makeshift bed. 

“Are you staying all night?” She was kinda hoping he was. Despite all the protections she’d just watched him put up she felt safer with him there. She didn’t think she’d ever really feel safe again, but at least with Dean just five feet away she knew he wouldn’t let anything get to her. 

Between watching her boyfriend burn up on the ceiling and learning about his family’s bloody supernatural history Dean had become her beacon of safety. 

Pulling off his jacket he pushed the chair into reclining and wiggled around in the generically ugly upholstery getting comfortable. He crossed his arms underneath his body warm leather jacket draped over him and crossed his ankles where they dangled off the foot rest. Leaning his head back he peeked an eye open and gave her a reassuring half smile. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jess let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Tension drained out of her and she laid down in her hospital bed. Maybe with Dean sprawled out five feet from her she’d finally be able to get some sleep. 

The last thing she registered before she slipped into sleep was the lump of her healing hex bag beneath her head. 

*

Over the next week, every night after visiting hours were over and the nurses did their last rounds, Dean snuck into Jess’s room and went through the ritual of setting up protections. 

On the second night Dean caved to Jess’s demands for a more in-depth explanation of all things supernatural. At first he was reluctant to expose her to more of the world of the impossible, but he couldn’t argue with the logic of fore warned is fore armed. He started by showing her his hunting journal. 

“It’s a record of every evil you ever come across. If you don’t write down what you hunt and how to kill it you’re gonna make a rooky mistake and get yourself killed.”

Jess stared down at the journal spread open in her lap completely grossed out by the vivid description of just how thorough you had to be when bashing a ghoul’s head in. Apparently the devil’s in the details, so to speak. 

“Is the picture of cattle mutilation really necessary though?” Jess swallowed thickly and turned the page quickly only to land on a detailed rendering of a vetala’s bite marks. 

“You gotta know if you’re dealing with a satanic cult or just your run of the mill demon,” Dean said reaching over to flip through the journal searching for something. 

“Right,” Jess muttered. “Of course, ‘just a run of the mill demon’. ‘Cause there are more than one kind.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean drawled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I ran into a cult last year. They were trying to raise some kind of hell beast, I don’t know. Here look at the symbols burned into the hide.” 

Jess groaned. “Now that’s seriously gross.” 

“Smell was worse,” Dean told her like it was completely normal to be discussing the stench of dead animal. “Ritual needed to be done on the Summer Solstice and it’d been laying out there for a couple of days.”

Jess gagged.

Their nights weren’t all spent on graphic hunting documentations and detailed gruesome depictions. Dean gave her an overview of the different weapons needed for killing various kinds of monsters. She hadn’t realized knives even came in anything other than stainless steel.

“Silver and iron.” He held up two Bowie knives as long as her forearm. “They’re the most common weapons for killing the average monsters you’ll come across.”

Jess held a smaller iron knife between her fingers carefully. Dean had given it to her and told her to keep it on her at all times. “You can’t just shoot them? It seems kinda crazy dangerous to get close enough to stab one.”

“Hunting is always crazy dangerous,” he returned gravely before his expression cleared. “But you’re right. You want to avoid getting up close and personal as much as possible. Usually we can kill ‘em with silver bullets or consecrated iron rounds.”

“Where do you even buy something like that?” She asked curiously.

“You don’t. We have to make our own,” Dean replied casually like it was normal for people to melt down precious metals to forge into bullets on a regular basis.

Looking back down at the iron knife in her hands, Jess figure that for Dean it was normal.

With the lessons in monster killing weapons, Dean also gave her a rundown of the most common things you hunt in the United States and how to kill them. 

“So you actually dig up dead bodies, dump a bunch of salt on them, and light them on fire.” She was a little disturbed that that was one of tamest methods of monster hunting. ‘Cause, you know, dead bodies. Ew.

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. “It’s not so bad. You get used to the smell after the first few times you do it.” 

Regardless of the lore and weapons and killing lessons, the things Dean was determined to drill into her were all the ways to protect against the supernatural. He made her recite the protection spells until he was satisfied with her pronunciation. He wrote them all down on cheat sheets for her with the phonetic spelling so she couldn’t forget them. Because of course magic protection spells could never be in English. 

“They have to be in the language of their origin,” Dean explained when she’d asked frustrated with stumbling through some Aramaic. “Translations never get it perfect so the magic doesn’t work right. You don’t want to mess with stuff like this. It might blow up in your face.”

She wasn’t sure if he was exaggerating or not and she didn’t really want to ask. 

By the time Dean was satisfied with her crash course in all things supernatural it was finally time for her to get discharged. 

She couldn’t stop the worry from her voice when she asked him if he was going to be there for her hospital release. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea me running into your family.” His shoulders hunched as he started packing up his magic protection stuff. 

She’d been freaked out the first time he’d shoved it all back in his backpack once morning came, but he’d told her that most of the evil things tended to move around at night and it should be safe enough during the day. Plus, the blessings he’d chanted around her room should deter anything sniffing around while he wasn’t there. It didn’t make her feel much better, but she decided to trust him and didn’t protest when he left every morning.

“They’re going to see you at the funeral anyway,” Jess argued as he shoved the rebar into the bag. She pushed past the familiar ache the thought brought with it. “It would probably be better if they meet you now when we’re not surrounded by dozens of other people.” 

He turned to look at her with a dubious expression on his face. “What will you tell them about me? That I’m Sam’s estranged unemployed drifter brother he hasn’t talked to in four years?”

Jess bit her lip and fidgeted under his tense gaze. “They don’t know much about Sam beyond that he’s my boyfriend,” she admitted, trying to come up with an answer that would make Dean stay. “I doubt they’ll really pay much attention to you when they’ll be worried about me.” 

It was quiet while Dean thought that through, weighing the risks. Jess held her breath. Finally he nodded. 

“Fine. I’ll stay and meet them, but let me do the talking.” He threw himself back into the guest chair and sprawled out with his elbows on the arm rests and his knees spread, the picture of an unconcerned twenty-something. “I gotta lie for a living. I think I can come up with a convincing enough story for your folks.”

Jess sighed in relief and settled in to wait for the inevitable chaos of the rest of her day.

*

True to his word, Dean fibbed his way through the introductions with Jess’s parents. Her mother was ready to accept him as the grieving brother that he was, but her father was more wary. 

“What did you say you do?” Mr. Moore eyed the scruffy man in front of him. He looked rough with a shade of dangerous around the edges and his hands were callused with crooked fingers from breaks healing poorly. 

Jess watched as Dean flashed her father a disarming smile and miraculously made himself look harmless despite his height and muscular build. 

“I’m in pest control,” he said and Jess almost gave away the game with snort of surprise. 

“And that’s a job that requires a lot of travel?” 

“Well, there are different kinds of critters everywhere.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “Gotta go where the work is.”

He’d convincingly explained away his absence in Sam’s life with a migratory career. Jess thought she would never stop being surprised by Sam’s long lost brother. He almost had her believing it too. It was masterful, how he told the truth while lying through his teeth. 

Getting discharged from a hospital took an hour of signing form after form all in triplicate because apparently getting out of the hospital was supposed to be more of a pain in the ass than getting into one. It was annoying and exhausting and it was insult to injury. Jess had just lost her boyfriend, had almost been gutted, and suffered third degree burns. Now she had to acquire carpel tunnel on top of it. 

Of course Dean used the opportunity to soften her father towards him. 

“Damn lawyers,” Mr. Moore grumbled. “All these ridiculous lawsuits make everybody’s life harder.”

“I hear you,” Dean added with a serious nod. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork it takes to relocate a crocodile.” 

Jess highly doubted Dean had ever relocated anything in his job, but she didn’t say that. She’d promised to follow Dean’s lead when it came to his made up background and he seemed to be doing a pretty good job of selling it without her unhelpfully contradicting him. 

The paperwork induced fog didn’t lift until the doctor showed up to give a final evaluation and directions for her wound care. 

“Alright, Miss Moore, you seem to be recovering quite well.” The doctor seemed surprised when he examined the worst of the burns across her back. “Truthfully, I’ve never seen anyone recover from injuries this severe as quickly as you are,” he admitted bemused.

Jess sent a fleeting glance toward Dean and he winked at her. She pressed her hand over the hex bag in the pocket of her loose sweatpants and sent him a quick smile back. 

“I guess I’m just a fast healer.” She shrugged gingerly. 

“Hm, must be,” the doctor murmured absently as he finished taking out the stitches from the wound on her belly. He taped a fresh bandage over the bright pink scar tissue. “Well, everything looks good. You have the directions for caring for your wounds and you are free to go.”

Everyone gave an awkward chuckle when she sighed in relief and muttered, “Fucking finally.” 

Getting wheeled out of the hospital was annoying and by that point she was beyond frustrated and exhausted by the whole ordeal. When she got out of the chair and stepped through the electric doors all she wanted to do was go home and curl up in her bed. 

Her throat suddenly tightened and her breath hitched. “Oh God, I can never home.” A tear slipped down her cheek unbidden when she couldn’t wipe it away fast enough. 

She distantly registered Dean’s twitch and the strangely unreadable look on face before her mother wrapped her up in her arms. 

“It’s alright, honey,” Mrs. Moore murmured in her devastated daughter’s ear. “You’re coming home with us. Everything will be okay.” 

It really won’t. Sam was dead, burned up on the ceiling, and something powerful and homicidal was after her. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. Suddenly she wasn’t just upset about all her memories and things turned to ash along with Sam. She was terrified the monster that had done this to them would find her in her childhood bedroom and finish what it started. 

Clutching at her mother, Jess looked over her shoulder and blinked through her tears finding Dean with her eyes. 

“I’m scared,” she whispered and reached out a hand toward him desperately. “Don’t leave, please.”

Without hesitation Dean grabbed her hand in his broad callused one and squeezed tight. “I’m not going anywhere,” he told her just like he had that first night she begged him to stay. “I promise.”

Her fear slowly eased until just her grief was left. Wrapped up in her mom’s arms with her dad’s hand on her shoulder and Dean’s hand holding hers, she finally released some of that grief filling her up inside. 

The four of them stood there for what felt like a long time. Jess, surrounded by the only three people in the world she still trusted, soaked up the comfort like a sponge. 

*

Her dad was wary when Jess insisted that Dean stayed with them at their house, but he couldn’t refuse his grieving daughter. 

“He’s staying at a motel,” she told her parents in the car on the way home. Dean following them to the suburbs in his big black beast of a car. “He’s Sam’s brother, I can’t let him stay in a motel.” 

Mr. Moore didn’t protest, but if anything the road dirt covered muscle car made him even more distrustful. He decided not to mention it when his wife gave him a pointed look. 

Jess didn’t bother trying to stay up once they’d unpacked what little of her stuff could be salvaged from her burned out apartment. She muttered a vague excuse and locked herself up in her room collapsing on her bed and hiding under the covers until she passed out from physical and emotional exhaustion. It didn’t even register to her that she’d abandoned Dean to her parents she just slipped into a restless sleep. 

She didn’t wake up again until it was dark outside and her bedroom door was pushed open quietly. Her heart started to race and she tried to hold perfectly still praying that it wasn’t the monster coming back to try to burn her up again. 

“It’s just me, Jess.” 

Sighing in relief she carefully turned over to watch Dean sneak into her bedroom with his ever present backpack in hand. 

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” she hissed glaring at him in the light of the moon coming through her window. 

“Sorry,” he whispered as he dropped his backpack on her desk and started pulling stuff out of it. 

She watched him line up a round canister of some kind, the grocery sack of cats eye shells, and his bottle of holy water. 

“Do you think that’s necessary here?” She asked struggling to sit up.

He was by her side in a flash gently helping her ease into a sitting position piling up her pillows behind her. “Just because we’re out of the hospital doesn’t mean a monster can’t attack us here just as easily.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought that she wasn’t even safe in her childhood home. “I hate this. I hate being scared all the time.” 

Dean straightened up and looked at her with serious eyes. “It sucks, but I’m going to protect you, Jess. I won’t leave until I’m sure you’ll be safe.”

The thought that Dean would eventually have to leave and go back to his life of saving people and hunting things didn’t do anything to help her fear, but she didn’t bring it up again. 

She just watched as Dean went about his nightly ritual of fortifying her room against the things that go bump in the night. Instead of the rebar on the windowsill and doorjamb he opened the round canister and poured out a line of what she assumed was salt. That was one of the main lessons he drilled into her; salt was one of the most important things to have in your arsenal. Never go anywhere without salt.

He placed the cat’s eye shells around the room in their little patterns and he sprinkled holy water while chanting prayers in Latin. As his deep gravelly voice washed over her, it comforted her and it chased away the worst of her fear. Over the last week she’d discovered that just by watching Dean complete his task she was as able to relax for the first time the entire day.

Dean tossed his prayer book, holy water sport bottle, and the canister of salt back in his bag and sat down on the floor. 

“What are you doing?” Jess asked as he started to unlace his boots and take off his jacket.

He looked up at her while he lined up his boots under her desk. “I’m bedding down for the night,” he drawled like it should be obvious. 

“On the floor?”

“I don’t see another bed in here, do you?” He teased gesturing around the room. 

“Don’t be a smartass,” Jess muttered with a roll of her eyes. She reached stiffly behind her and pulled out her extra pillow then dragged her fleece blanket from on top of her comforter. “Here,” she tossed them down at him. “You might as well be comfortable if you’re going to be sleeping on my rug.”

Dean hesitated for a second looking down at them in his lap before he looked back up at her. “Thanks,” he murmured as he made himself as comfortable as he could stretched out on her floor.

Jess awkwardly scooted to lay down in a position that wouldn’t put too much strain on her tender wounds and pulled her comforter up to her chin. She stared at Dean in the dark until he turned his head and met her gaze curiously. 

She gave him a fleeting smile and whispered her own, “Thanks.”

He nodded, a ghost of a reassuring smile on his mouth. “Sure thing, darlin’.”

“Goodnight,” she murmured into the dark. 

“’Night,” he murmured back turning his head away and closing his eyes.

Jess watched him in the light of the moon until her eyes drooped closed and she fell asleep again.

*

The funeral was just as terrible as she thought it would be. Watching the empty coffin being lowered down into the ground was like having her heart ripped out again. It was agony and it made her so very angry through her tears and gasping sobs. 

Sam’s friends, classmates, and a couple of his professors were all in attendance mourning and crying like they had any right to grieve as much as she was. Logically in the back of her mind she knew she wasn’t really mad at them. She was mad at the thing had killed him. At the monster that had creeped into her house and pinned her to the ceiling for Sam to find.

The guilt of her uncharitable thoughts only made the pain worse. The derision she felt for her classmates’ tears was nothing compared to the surprising amount of anger she held for Sam as well. 

Because he loved her, because he protected her, he had traded places with her. She didn’t know how he did it, but he had and she was so very angry at him. He couldn’t bear to see her die and so he made her watch him die instead. He left her all alone. 

The only person around that even had an inkling of the kind of grief she felt was Dean Winchester. Sam’s long lost brother that had been with him for his last days. He’d rushed into a burning building to save his brother and could only save her instead. He had to see his brother bleeding, burning up on the ceiling just liked he’d seen his mom the night his life was destroyed and Jess knew she would never stop feeling guilty for that. 

Guilty that he had lost his little brother and got her instead like some kind of pitiful conciliation prize. The fact that he was good and honorable and had somehow promised his burning brother that he would protect his girlfriend no matter what was worse. It just made the whole situation that much more fucked up. 

Despite her conflicted feelings she couldn’t stop herself from being pathetically grateful that Dean was standing next to her grieving just as hard as she was. 

She knew it was weird that she was clinging like a child to an inappropriately dressed stranger. That her friends were puzzled and her parents were bewildered that she was clutching Dean painfully tight and hiding her face against his leather clad shoulder. Her tears made the leather slick and uncomfortable, but Dean didn’t protest, didn’t try to budge her, he just kept an arm wrapped around her shoulders gripping her arm so tight she knew she would have a hand shaped bruise beneath her sleeve.

Later, when she wasn’t trying not to die from a broken heart, she would think about the kinds of rumors their actions had most likely spawned. She couldn’t care less. She just soaked up all the comfort she could as Dean turned to press his face into her hair trying to hide too from the hollow sight of filling an empty grave with grave dirt. 

In her grief she didn’t see her parents watching them with uncomfortable, curious expressions on their faces. 

Maybe worse than the breathless crying at the funeral, was numbly going through the motions at the wake.

Her parents were footing the bill for the entire affair with a little help of twelve hundred dollars in crumpled beer stained bills from Dean. She could only guess how he’d made that money and the suspicious look her father had given him as he was handed the stack of money spoke volumes.

Jess knew that Dean thought the entire thing was a pointless waste. When she’d noticed his silent disapproval, he’d explained that a hunter’s funeral was a shroud wrapped body covered in salt on a funeral pyre.

She figured it was logical, salting and burning your dead, since more tortured spirits were to be avoided at all costs. 

There was no body to bury or burn. Neither of them would gain closer from the mainstream ritual of a funeral. In a way it was comforting that neither of them would be alone in their dissatisfaction. 

The wake was slow to pass. The food tasted like ash in her mouth and every time someone spewed sympathetic drivel at her she had to bite down on the impulse to snap at them. All she wanted was to be left alone, but she had to be polite. How hypocritical was that? That she had to cater to everyone else when she felt like she was cracking open from the inside. 

Pretty much the only thing stopping her from stabbing her oh so sincere philosophy professor in the eye with a mini plastic appetizer sword was Dean’s steadying hand in hers. 

“It’s such a shame that Sam should be taken from us too soon,” Professor Burt said with an overly sympathetic frown. “Sam was one of my best students, a true academic.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” Jess was so done with this crap, but she still had to play her part. “That means a lot.” 

“Of course.” He gave her an exaggerated agreeing nod and thankfully moved off to the platter of mini quiches.

“Do you think Professor Bowtie over there would be too scandalized to learn that Sam knew how to throw knives since he was twelve?”

Jess snorted and gave Dean a tremulous smirk. “Sam used to come home from that class complaining about what a massive tool he was.”

He huffed in amusement. “That sounds like Sammy.”

“Yeah.” Jess smiled at him. “I always loved his scathing commentary.”

A melancholy silence fell over them as memories of Sam floated through their minds. It didn’t last long before more mourners came up to express their expectant sympathies. Jess responded with as much sincerity and grace as she could, but she could feel the stress of the act starting to build. 

Finally there was a lull in between “ I’m so sorry”s and condolences. Dean squeezed her hand to get her attention. 

“What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?”

“God yes,” she gusted out, standing and pulling on his hand until he stood too. 

They didn’t even bother sneaking they just walked out the front door and strode determinately to the Impala. They slid inside without a look back. Dean revved the engine, pulled away with his foot on the gas, and sped as far away from that house and its cloying mourners as fast as possible.

*

Jess almost expected it to look different. The burned out shell of her and Sam’s apartment. Staring at it standing next to Dean on the sidewalk, she thought it just looked like a burned out shell. 

“We spent two months looking for the perfect apartment.” Dean didn’t look over at as she spoke, but that was okay. She knew he was listening. “We were practically poor, it was almost out of our budget, but we rented it anyway.” 

She drew in a shuddering breath. “I thought it was so sweet how excited Sam was to find a home with me. I guess I know why now. ‘Cause he never really had a home growing up.” 

If she hadn’t been practically pressed against Dean’s side she wouldn’t have felt the stiffening in his body. 

“Yeah,” he rasped looking away from the apartment and down at the ground. “Sam hated the way we lived. Always wanted a real house with a white picket fence and everything.” 

The tightness in his voice made Jess cringe. She’d forgotten for a moment that Sam had left his family because he wanted something more, something better. It was plain to see that his leaving had hurt Dean.

“I’m glad,” he confessed looking over at Jess as he rubbed a rough hand over his face wiping away any trace of a tear. “I’m glad that he got to have that, a home, with you.”

Jess’s heart ached, thankful for Dean’s acceptance. She reached over and took his hand in hers giving it a comforting squeeze. “Me too.” She gave him a small smile. “I’m glad I could give him that.”

They spent a long moment standing hand in hand basking in the small respite from grief. Knowing that Sam had been happy was the only pleasant thought either of them had since he died.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed away from the Impala and released Jess’s hand with a final squeeze. 

“Alright, enough of this chick-flick moment.” He threw her a grin to soften his words. “Let’s get this over with.” 

The inside of the trunk of Dean’s car was, to tell the truth, kind of frightening. Jess stared wide eyed at the dangling amulets, bags of rock salt, gallon jugs of holy water, boxes of ammunition, a plethora of various kinds of firearms, and a beat up spice rack. 

She peered at the handwritten labels. “Grave dirt, mandrake, angelica root,” she squinted a little closer, “van van oil. You’ve got quite the kitchen in here.”

Dean snorted as he snatched up a large bag of salt and a jug of holy water. “I wouldn’t want to use any of that it chicken soup, if you know what I mean.”

“What, will it blow up in your face?”

“Nope,” he knocked the sawed-off shot gun holding up the lid to the side and closed the hidden locker. “But it’ll give you one hell of a tummy ache.” 

Jess huffed and rolled her eyes. She took the jug of holy water he handed her. “So, what are we doing now?”

“Now, we’re going to bless your old apartment.” Dean walked off across the road leaving Jess to follow behind.

“Why are we doing that?” She demanded, scowling at his back as he stalked up the front walk. “The thing already got us here. It already killed Sam. What’s blessing a crumbling ruin going to do?”

He paused just on the threshold where the front door used to be. Looking back at her, his expression was dark.

“Evil like that, it marks a place.” His gravelly voice seemed to hush all ambient noise around them. “This place will act like a beacon to other supernatural nasties. If we don’t want that to happen we gotta cleanse the area.” 

He glanced away for a moment before continuing in a softer, rougher voice. “And Sam died here. I gotta do this for him too.”

Jess didn’t know what to say so she stayed silent. They stepped just over the threshold then Dean crouched down and set his bag of salt on the ground. “Drop the water here, I gotta bless that first.”

Placing the jug next to the salt, Jess tucked the skirt of her dress behind her knees and crouched down balancing on her black kitten heels. Dean uncapped the jug, untied the bag and started to pour the salt into the water. He chanted under his breath steadily until the bag was empty and the water was cloudy with salt, then he capped the jug and stood up.

Gracefully unfolding from her crouch, Jess settled at Dean’s side and waited for him to tell her the next step. He shook the jug hard a few times until the salt was pretty well dissolved then pulled out his leather bound prayer book. 

Flipping through the book to the right page he held it out to her until she hurriedly took it. She looked at him in confusion. “Why are you-”

“You loved Sam,” he cut her off. “You loved him too. We’ll say the blessings together.”

Tightening her grip on the book, she nodded stiffly. “Okay, okay. Where do I start?”

“Star at the beginning.” He told her uncapping the holy water. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep up with you.”

Jess began at the top and stumbled haltingly over the Latin words trying to remember everything Dean ever told her about pronunciation. She was going to mess it up. She wasn’t saying it right, the blessing wasn’t going to work-

“Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino…”

Dean’s voice joined hers and suddenly her felt calm. Her hand’s stopped shaking and her voice was steady. Dean was there, he wouldn’t let her mess it up. He had confidence that she would be able to do right by Sam and help put him to rest. 

They chanted the blessing in unison slowly walking around what remained of the building, Dean pouring the salted holy water along the charred ground. 

Three times they circled until the holy water was gone and Jess’s voice was getting hoarse.

Coming to a stop back where they started on the threshold, Dean gently took the book when she offered it and met her gaze with quiet gratefulness. 

“Thank you.” He gave her a small smile. 

Smiling softly in return, Jess took his hand in both of hers held on tightly. “Always.”

They silently stood in the threshold of the place where Sam died thinking about him and taking comfort in each other’s presence. They didn’t leave until the sun had already set.

*

The next day, Dean took Jess out into a field in the middle of nowhere, lined up empty beer and whiskey bottles, handed her a handgun and told her to aim. 

She’d never held a gun in her life. Needless to say Dean had his work cut out for him. But he was a perfectionist and he didn’t let them go back home until the sun had set and he was satisfied that Jess could at least hit most of her targets. 

Her arms ached from holding the gun up in the proper position and she was sure her hand was going to bruise from the kickback. Dean was unimpressed by her complaints. 

“Walk it off,” he told her completely unsympathetic.

When they finally got back to the house, Jess’s parents were waiting with dinner. As Jess and Dean walked through the door she saw the looks on their faces and it suddenly became glaringly apparent how this all must look. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Dean hadn’t slept a single night in the guest bedroom, or that Jess clung to him while she avoided everyone else. She’d disappeared from her boyfriend’s wake with his brother and didn’t return until nightfall. Now they’d been out all day long only to come back looking windblown and exhausted, flushed from the sun. 

Things had already been stiff between Dean and her parents, her mom not knowing what to do with the polite but distant young man and her father not trusting the rough dangerous looking stranger as far as he could throw him. Her boyfriend was dead and she was spending all her time with his attractive bad-boy brother. The implications were not complimentary.

Later that night, after a tense dinner, everyone started to turn in for the night. Her mother had gone up to bed first and her father was lounging in his chair watching a late night talk show. Dean was in his room waiting for the other occupants of the house to retire before he could sneak into her room so they would sleep protected together. 

Jess had just pulled her overlarge worn-out nightshirt on over her panties and was about to brush her hair out for bed when her bedroom door opened. 

She turned to look at Dean. “I thought you were going to wait until my dad went to bed. You don’t want him to-,” she cut herself off abruptly when she saw her mother in the doorway instead. 

Her mom was standing just inside the threshold, her graying hair loose over her shoulders, and her long nightgown covered by a matching robe. The look on her face as she regarded her daughter made Jess’s throat tighten.

“Mom?”

“Honey,” her mom sighed and passed under the iron rebar sitting above the doorjamb without pause. “What are you doing?”

Jess swallowed thickly and turned all the way around to face her. “What do you mean?”

“What are you doing with that boy?” She asked her daughter, her expression disappointed.

“I don’t know what you mean.” It was weak and Jess couldn’t stop herself from shifting uncomfortably under her mom’s penetrating stare.

“You just buried Sam, Jess. And suddenly there is a stranger attached to your side.” She was bewildered. “You disappear all day with him and he sneaks into your room at night. Jess,” her breath hitched as she continued doggedly. “Were you cheating on Sam with his brother?”

“No!” Jess gasped. “No, Mom. I’m not- we’re not.” She took a shaky breath. “Dean and I, we’re not sleeping together. I swear.” 

“Then, if you’re not sleeping together, what is going on?” It didn’t make any sense. Her daughter was struck by such unimaginable tragedy and she suddenly became a stranger. Her Jess wouldn’t shut her family out like this. She wouldn’t be spending her nights with a man she hardly knew when her boyfriend’s memory should still be fresh in her mind. 

Jess hesitated searching for some way to make this better. Something to tell her mom so that she didn’t think her daughter was the kind of person that sleeps with her dead boyfriend’s brother not a month after he died. 

“Mom, it’s- Dean and me, it’s complicated.” 

“How is it complicated? Because no matter how I look at it, this is a bad situation,” she demanded, disapproval and frustration clouding her face. 

Jess breathed heavily for a moment and tried to think of a way any version of this story wouldn’t make the situation worse, wouldn’t make her and Dean sound like crazy people.

“Dean saved me, Mom.” 

That made her mom pause. “I don’t understand.” She frowned in confusion.

“I lied,” Jess admitted reluctantly. “I lied about Dean coming into town after the fire.” She met her mother’s uncomprehending gaze, but she was determined to continue. 

“He came to visit Sam that Friday and the two of them went on a weekend trip together. He dropped Sam off back at our apartment just before the fire started.” She inhaled deeply determined to finish. “He saw the smoke and turned around. By the time he got there it was too late and he could only save me.”

Her mother gasped and pressed a hand to her chest staring at her devastated daughter in sorrowful surprise. “He pulled you out of the fire.”

“Yeah,” Jess rasped and nodded. “Dean grabbed me and carried me out.”

“But why?” Her mother burst out in confusion. “Why lie to the police, to us?”

“Dean- he,” Jess grimaced and silently apologized to Dean for this. “He’s had some trouble with law. If the cops knew he was here they probably would have arrested him.”

“Oh lord.” Rubbing a hand down her cheek, Mrs. Moore’s thoughts raced through her mind, none of them good.

“He’s a good guy, Mom,” Jess tried to assure her before she got it into her head to call the cops. “It’s just some petty crime stuff, it’s not like he’s a murderer or anything.” She laughed awkwardly trying really hard not to let her thoughts about killing monsters show on her face. 

That didn’t seem to assuage much of her mother’s worry, but she had calmed down even though she was still looking at Jess with a serious expression. 

“Why is he sleeping in your room, Jess?” She pressed urgently. “Is he coercing you somehow? Forcing you to-”

“God no, Mom! Stop!” Jess burst out in frustration. “He’s not forcing me to do anything. He sleeps on the floor. I just feel safer when he’s here.” 

She stopped, surprised. “What? You feel safer?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Jess sighed. “He dragged me out of the fire. He stayed with me every night in the hospital.” She shrugged and gave her mom a sad smile. “He protected me and I feel safe when he’s with me. And Dean was there, he’s the only one who understands.”

“Oh honey.” Her mother’s entire demeanor softened and she stepped to her daughter and wrapped her arms around her. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I know this has been hard and we’ve been trying to help you.”

“I know, Mom.” Jess hugged her mom back, tension draining from her. “I know you’ve tried, it’s just been hard.”

“You’re both grieving. I should have realized that of course you would want to lean on each other.” 

“It’s okay.” Jess pulled away and gave her mother a trembling smile. “I shouldn’t have lied to you about Dean.” 

“I understand why you did.” Her mother stroked her cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll explain about you and Dean spending so much time together to your father, but maybe we shouldn’t tell him about the rest. You know how he is.”

Jess gave a watery chuckle. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” She hugged her mother again kissing her cheek. “Thanks, mom.” 

“Of course, sweetie.” She smiled at her daughter and leaned up to give her a kiss on the forehead. “Have sweet dreams.” 

“You too, Mom.”

She turned to go and found Dean standing awkwardly in the doorway with a backpack over his shoulder. 

“Mrs. Moore,” he greeted politely. 

She gave him a slightly hesitant smile and continued to the door. He moved to the side so he wasn’t blocking her. 

“Good night, Dean,” she wished him and squeezed him on the arm as she passed him into the hallway.

“’Night, Mrs. Moore.” He nodded back bewildered. She turned away and headed on to bed. 

Dean waited until she’d closed her bedroom door behind her before he entered Jess’s room and closed the door. 

They looked at each other for a long moment. Jess fiddled with the bottom of her nightshirt. She nervously asked, “So, how much did you hear?”

Dean gave her a reassuring grin. “Enough. You ready to try the protection blessings by yourself tonight?”

And that was that. They didn’t talk anymore about her conversation with her mother. Jess thought she handled it as best she could and apparently Dean agreed with her. 

Jess smiled at him and nodded determinately. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

His grin widening, Dean dropped his backpack on her desk. “Alright, let’s do this.”

*

Dean stayed for another three days. Each day he took Jess out to the field and either made her do target practice or practice the bare bones of self-defense. Thankfully Jess had taken a semester of self-defense classes for the college physical education credit so she wasn’t starting completely from scratch. 

She was a fast learner and Dean was impressed with her progress in both categories. On the third day, Dean forewent the usual practice handgun and pulled out a silver gun with a pearl handle. He held it in his hands, just looking at it for a long moment before finally offering it to her. 

Jess took it gently and studied it. It was clean, gleaming, and obviously well cared for. It was deceptively heavy and Jess could tell that it would pack a punch. The metal barrel shined and the pearl grips reflected the light in colorful waves. It was beautiful. 

“It’s a stainless steel Taurus PT-92 9mm pistol.” He watched intently as she turned it carefully in her hands and ran her fingers over the metal. “It was Sam’s gun.”

Her head jerked up in surprise. “You’re giving it to me?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and gave her a wry smile. “Sam would hate that I’m even giving you a gun, but it should be yours.”

She just stared at him even as her fingers closed around it and gripped it hard. 

“He left it behind when he left for Stanford,” Dean told her. “Our dad gave it to Sam on his sixteenth birthday. And now I’m giving it to you. If anyone should have it, it should be you.”

Her heart beat fast in her chest. “But Dean-”

“Nope.” He cut off any protest. “It’s yours now. It should be yours.”

Looking down at the beautiful gun in her hands she could imagine gentle soft-spoken Sam, her Sam, wrapping his hand around the grip like she had learned, holding it up like Dean had taught her, aiming and firing at monsters to protect people. He’d used this gun to protect strangers and to protect his family. And now it was hers.

She roughly brushed away a tear that slipped down her cheek and gave Dean a soft smile. “Thank you.”

He gripped her shoulder tightly sharing the emotions of the moment. Breaking the quiet he grabbed a box of ammo and his own .45 from the trunk then closed everything up. 

“Okay. Let’s get it shot in.” He started off toward their usual spot knowing she’d follow. “Never take a gun on a hunt you haven’t shot before. It’s a sure fire way to get yourself dead.”

With the weight of Sam’s gun in her hands, Jess felt light. It was like Sam was protecting her even now and that was a comforting thought.

*

The next morning Jess awoke to the smell of breakfast. Looking over the side of her bed, Dean was gone. His jacket, boots, and backpack were gone. His blanket was folded on her desk with his pillow sitting on top of it. The only things he’d left were the cat’s eye shells and the rebar on her doorjamb and windowsill. 

Jess’s stomach sank. Tossing her covers back she spared enough time to pull on some pajama pants then she raced to the guestroom and burst in the door. 

Dean was already dressed and bent over his open duffle bag on his bed folding his clothes and tossing them in.

“You’re leaving.”

At the sound of her voice he stopped haphazardly rolling up his socks, but he didn’t turn around. “Yeah, it’s time to get back on the road,” he replied gruffly and tossed his socks in the duffle before he finally turned to face her. 

“Dad’s still out there somewhere and I need to get back to trying to find him.”

“Bullshit.” Jess scowled. 

He ignored her. “He left coordinates for us. I need to go there. He might be waiting to meet up.”

“Why do you even still want to find him? You’ve called him a hundred times. His son is dead and he can’t even pick up the phone!” She snapped, her fear morphing into anger. 

“Stop! Don’t you say that,” Dean warned her darkly.

“You can’t leave!” Jess’s breathing quickened. “You promised to stay. You promised. You said you would protect me. Don’t leave! You can’t! Please, Dean!”

“Jess!” He grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, held her almost too tight to breathe. “Jess, stop. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Breathe, darlin’. You’ll be alright.” 

“No, no.” She gasped and clenched her shaking hands in his shirt. “Dean, you can’t leave.”

“I have to.” He sighed rubbing a heavy hand soothingly up and down her back. “I have to find my dad. He’s the last family I have.” 

“Then take me with you.”

He huffed humorlessly. “I can’t risk you getting hurt. Sam would never forgive me.” He pulled back just enough to look into her face. “I’d never forgive myself.” 

“But how can I be safe if you’re gone?” She demanded. “What’s to keep the thing from coming back and burning me up on the ceiling just like Sam?”

Dean’s face hardened and he put some distance between them. Jess had to struggle to unclench her fingers from his shirt. “It would have tried again by now if it was going to. I’ve taught you how to protect yourself and it will be safer for you to stay here with your family than to hunt monsters and chase after my dad with me.”

“I don’t want to stay safe here, Dean.” She frowned. “I can’t just go back to my old life. I can’t just act like everything can be normal again.” 

He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his hair in frustration. “Jess, you can’t come with me. I won’t be able to protect you all the time. Eventually, it’ll get one or both of us killed.” 

“Then don’t just protect me,” she insisted. “Teach me how to hunt so I can protect myself.” 

“No,” he growled before she could even finish the sentence. “Absolutely not.”

“Damnit, Dean! You can’t just make me stay.”

“Yes, I can!” He snapped. “I made a promise, Jess, to Sam. That I would protect you and keep you safe and the only way for me to do that is to leave you here.”

Jess jerked and gasped, “What?”

Dean blew out a harsh breath. “I promised Sam that I would keep you safe. That I would do everything I could to protect you and the only way I can be sure that you’ll be okay is if you stay here.” He looked into her eyes and begged, “Please, Jess. Stay here. Stay with your family.”

Jess’s heart ached and she looked away from his intense gaze. Family, she knew, meant everything to Dean. He may not have said in as many words, but every sparse word he said about Sam, every time his fingers skimmed that amulet hanging from his neck, every time he spoke about his dad, it was there. For a man that lied every day of his life, his eyes reflected every single emotion he had.

He’d made a promise to Sam and a promise to her that he would protect her and keep her safe. She wouldn’t be safe on the road with him. She would be in danger every second. 

Dean was noble and honorable and he kept his promises. She couldn’t ask him to break one now.

“Okay,” she relented, her voice soft and small. “I’ll stay.”

He deflated with her agreement, tension draining out of him. “Thank you, Jess. Thank you.”

Dean stayed long enough for breakfast and to say goodbye and thank you to her parents, for footing the bill for the funeral, and for letting him stay under their roof. 

Jess followed him out to the Impala the silence heavy between them. 

Closing the trunk on his duffle and backpack, Dean walked back to her standing on the sidewalk.

“Now you have the prayer book, and the salt, iron, holy water, cat’s eyes shells, and the-”

“Knife,” she finished for him. “Yes, Dean. You made sure I have everything.”

“You have all my cell numbers as well as Pastor Jim’s and Bobby’s,” Dean continued doggedly.

“They’re right here.” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and brandished in front of him. “You watched me add them to my contacts.”

“Memorize them too,” he instructed. “You never know, always be prepared.”

“Okay, I will.” Jess nodded fully intending to do as he told her.

They fell into another silence before Jess thought, fuck it, and lunged at him. Dean froze in surprise as Jess wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself tight against him. It didn’t take him longer than a breath then he was gripping her just as hard. Jess sighed at the feeling of comfort that came over her and buried her face in his neck. 

Dean pressed his face into her hair and inhaled shakily around the lump in his throat. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

They slowly pulled apart and Jess swiped roughly at her cheeks when a couple of tears escaped. “Yeah, you too, Dean.”

They stared intensely at each other sharing everything, their pain and grief and reluctance to part, all without saying a word. 

Dean broke their gaze and turned away. Sliding into the driver’s seat he revved the engine and peeled away too fast for a neighborhood street. Jess stood on the sidewalk and watched him leave until she couldn’t see his taillights anymore.

*

Jess ignored the concerned looks her parents kept sending her as she picked at dinner. Their inquiries were met with one word answers. 

She helped her mother clear the dishes away wishing she could just go up to her room, curl up in her bed, and stare blankly at the wall. But she had to keep up appearances. Her parents were worried enough. She didn’t want to add to it. 

Scrubbing casserole out of a pan, Jess’s mind wandered to Dean and Sam and the world she’d discovered. She didn’t look up when the doorbell rang. 

“Would you get that, Jess? I’ll take care of the scrubbing.” 

Nodding to her mother, Jess dried her hands and walked to the door on automatic. It wasn’t until she pulled it open that the fog lifted from her mind. 

“Dean?”

He was standing on the welcome mat wearing his leather jacket and an anxious expression. “I made it three hours away before I had to turn around.” 

Shifting on his feet, Dean rubbed a shaking hand at the back of his neck. “I need- I want you to come with me. You were right. I can’t leave you here.” He met her eyes steadily and asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

She didn’t even have to think, Jess’s heart pounded in her chest and she gasped, “Yes.”

*  
TBC…


	3. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 35-111 had to be the creepiest place she had ever been. It promised to be one hell of a first hunt, Jess was sure of that.

When Jess demanded to accompany Dean on the quest to find his father, she hadn’t really thought it through. Intellectually she knew they weren’t just going to go to some random town and look him up in the phonebook. When she finally threw her old pink and purple duffle next to his army surplus bags in the trunk of Dean’s car, and slid into the passenger seat, reality didn’t hit until Dean handed her a map and told her to navigate. 

That was when she got the whole story. 

She’d been afraid and Dean had been reluctant to tell her more than the bare bones of why and what he and Sam had been doing the weekend they disappeared together. But sitting in the dark, driving down a two lane highway in the middle of the night listening to Dean tell her about Women in White, cryptic voicemails, and messages left in coordinates the shine of running away with him was gone and fear of the unknown took its place. 

So, they were following coordinates that Sam and Dean’s father had left them in his most prized possession that supposedly never left his side. There was no guaranty that John Winchester would be there or that he’d been there, but she didn’t feel it was her place to say that to Dean. She could tell just how much he was clinging to the idea that John would be waiting for them when they pulled into town. 

The coordinates John had left for Dean in his journal, 35-111, led to the middle of the nowhere in a forest in Blackwater Ridge State Park. 

“He’s got a bunch of hidey holes scattered around,” Dean had told her, trying to convince himself more than her. “Maybe he’s holed up in a cabin there or something.” 

She didn’t think so and judging by the grim look on Dean’s face he didn’t really think so either.

They pulled into the parking lot for the visitor’s center at the park and Jess followed Dean as he sauntered up the steps and inside. She was pretty much clueless when it came to pretty much anything they were going to encounter on their journey, so it went unsaid that she was going to follow his lead no questions asked. 

She’d been camping a few times with her family when she was younger, her relatives had a thing for family reunions in the middle of the “great outdoors”, so the rustic visitor’s center wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. 

“What are we looking for?”

Dean glanced away from the picture of the biggest bear she’d ever seen and gave her a shrug. “Just some info for now.” Moving over to a 3D map of the area, Dean tapped a finger on the raised portion labeled Blackwater Ridge. “Look, it’s remote, cut off, dense forest, filled with abandoned mines and,” he nodded toward the picture on the wall, “some big ass grizzle bears.”

“Can I help you?”

Turning to the ranger Jess could tell he was older, experienced, and by the scowl on his face didn’t like the looks of them.

Dean stepped forward and flashed him a disarming smile. “Yes, sir. We’re environmental study majors from UC Boulder and we’d-”

“Bull.” 

Jess’s mouth went dry and her palms got clammy. How did he know they were lying? Was he going to turn them in? Shit, were they going to have to run?

“You’re friends with that Haley girl, aren’t you?”

Throwing Dean a wide-eyed look, she saw him give a split second pause then his entire demeanor changed. He shrugged and the grin on his face turned embarrassed. 

“You caught us.”

Ranger Wilkinson just rolled his eyes and huffed. “Well, I’ll tell you what I told her. Her brother’s backcountry permit doesn’t end until the twenty-fourth. He’s hardly a missing person.”

Jess tried to make it look like she was just worried about her friend, but she was pretty sure she failed since the Ranger was giving her a heavier scowl than Dean. 

She gave him what she hoped was a reassured smile and he just huffed again. “Just tell that girl to stop worrying.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something else, but Jess decided that if she was going to be lying to people of authority often then no better time to start than the present. Plus it wasn’t like Dean knew much about being friends with a girl. Or at least she assumed so. 

She thought about that one time her friend, Stacy, had fretted on her couch for an entire weekend when her cheating boyfriend went off for Spring break. With that memory in mind it wasn’t too hard to look as sincere as possible. 

“It’s just that Haley’s really worried. Isn’t there anything you can tell us that will make her feel better?” Jess threw in some earnest doe eyes and a light flutter of eyelashes for effect.

Stacy had needed a lot of fake sincere comforting.

Ranger Wilkinson eyed her dubiously and Jess turned the wide concerned expression up a notch. Finally he sighed and turned back toward his office. 

“I’ll print off a copy of the permit. See if that will stop her bothering me about it.” 

“Thank you so much, Ranger Wilkinson. It’ll mean a lot to her.” Jess smiled at him gratefully earning herself a put-upon scowl before he disappeared into the back office. 

Dean looked at her with a small smirk. “Not bad,” he murmured quietly. 

Jess shrugged trying to appear nonchalant under the praise. “You get pretty good at faking sincerity when you have to listen to your girl friends complain about boy troubles.”

Chuckling quietly, Dean shook his head in amusement.

*

Back in the Impala driving away from the visitor’s center Jess examined the backcountry permit with a frown. She had no idea what they were supposed to do with it. Dean had scanned it for a second then handed it off to her. It seemed that was all he needed because he drove into town like he knew exactly where he was going. 

“So, what are we doing now?” Jess asked looking at Dean. 

“Now,” he drawled making a quick turn and pulling to a stop in a parking lot. “We become park rangers.”

“What?” 

Dean nodded toward the building they just parked in front of and Jess read the sign. “Kinkos?”

He grinned at her and shoved his door open climbing out. “Yep.”

Watching Dean create really credible fake Park Service ID’s for Samuel Cole and Alice Wester was a little bit impressive. If she hadn’t watched him do it, she wouldn’t have been able to tell they were fake at all. 

“You make fake IDs at a Kinkos.” Hers was still warm from the lamination. 

“How do you think we get people to actually talk to us?” Dean asked while sliding his into his wallet for safe keeping. “It’s not like people will just spill their guts to a couple of random dudes in t-shirts and jeans.”

Jess looked down at her stretched out high school pride tee and her faded jeans. “Okay, that makes sense.”

They found Haley Collins’ house from the resident address on Tommy’s camping permit. Jess would be lying if she said the dry mouth and sweaty palms weren’t back. 

A young woman with dark wavy hair and a tired expression opened the door. 

She eyed them warily. “Can I help you?”

Dean gave her another of his charming smiles. “Haley Collins? I’m Dean and this is Jess. We’re with Park Services. Ranger Wilkinson sent us to ask about your brother.”

Haley Collins eyed them again and scowled. “Let me see some ID.”

Smart girl, Jess thought even as she panicked a little bit and nervously tugged her ID from her pocket. Dean had just spilled their real names and Jess was sure the Haley girl was gonna end up calling the cops on them, but Dean just smirked and flashed his ID like it was nothing. 

Haley seemed to peer closely at them then glanced back up and looked around Dean. 

“That your car?”

Dean couldn’t resist glancing over his shoulder with pride. “Yep.”

“Nice car,” she said and stepped back opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Jess felt weak in the knees, but followed Dean’s lead and stepped inside as calmly as she could. The inside of the Collins house was nice, cluttered with the evidence of a home and littered with family photos. It only took a closer look to figure out that the siblings were alone, their parents were gone. 

Following Haley into the dining room, Jess felt awkward when it became apparent that they’d interrupted the siblings’ dinner. Dean however carried on without pause. 

“So what can you tell us about your brother’s disappearance?”

Haley and Ben Collins were eager to tell their story and truthfully they had good evidence to back up their suspicions. While looking at the last video message Tommy had sent them, Jess couldn’t quite put her finger on it but something wasn’t right. Maybe she was just imagining things. 

Glancing at Dean to gage his reaction, she realized by the frown of concentration on his face that it wasn’t just her being jumpy. 

“Maybe if we took a closer look at the video,” Jess started to say petering off when Dean turned to look at her. When he didn’t give any indication for her to stop she finished, “we might be able to find clues to what happened.” 

“Alright,” Haley nodded not noticing the small exchange between them. “Let me email it to you.”

Dean was regarding Jess with an unreadable look and she shifted nervously. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to speak up without prompting. A second later the look was gone and he’d turned to give Haley his email address.

They’d gotten all they could from Haley and Ben so Dean and Jess made a quick exit. 

“Thanks for your time,” Dean said with a charming smile. “We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

*

Their motel room left much to be desired. It was clean sure, but the decor hadn’t been changed since the ‘80s and the bedspreads were thick ugly polyester. Jess was almost afraid of what the bathroom looked like but was pleasantly surprised that while it had mustard yellow tile it had also been scrubbed in between occupants. 

When she came out of the bathroom freshly showered, Dean was seated at the small table on the other side of the room with a laptop open and the local newspaper spread out next to it. 

He glanced up taking in her braided wet hair, her Strawberry Shortcake t-shirt, and her favorite pair of comfy leggings before turning back to the laptop. 

“Come on, I’ll show you what I found.” He hooked a boot on the chair next him and tugged it closer.

She dragged it the rest of way and sat down when she had a good view of the screen. 

“Tommy Collins, Haley’s brother, isn’t the only person that’s disappeared from Blackwater Ridge.” He turned the laptop toward her and she saw a backdated article on a missing couple from The Lost Creek Gazette. 

“Two hikers disappeared last April, they were never found.” He clicked to another article this one older. “Eight people went missing in ’82, ruled a grizzly bear attack.”

Jess watched more articles pop up as he clicked through them. Each one was older than the next and each one had a morbid title of missing campers or hikers. 

“People went missing in ’59, and earlier in ’32. Every twenty-three years. Whatever is going on it’s on a schedule.”

Jess’s stomach was rolling as she read about the people that just disappeared. No bodies, no one ever knew what happened to them. Even if they’d been attacked by a bear at least some of their remains would have turned up eventually, but what Dean was showing her, it was scarier than a bear attack.

“What’s taking these people?” She asked licking her lips hoping that the nervous dry mouth wouldn’t be a permanent thing. 

“No idea.” Dean shrugged casually like they weren’t just talking about missing persons going back almost a century. “Could be a hundred different things. That’s why we gotta do more research and narrow it down.”

“Okay,” Jess nodded and latched onto the idea. Research she knew. She’d had to do unbelievable amounts of research for her history degree. That was something she actually knew how to do. Then a thought occurred to her and she deflated. 

“Where are we supposed to start?” She asked. “I mean, how do you even research something like a supernatural creature that takes people from the woods?”

Dean smirked at her and gestured to the laptop. “You start with prior deaths. Look into local myths and legends. See if any of that pans out.”

“You already looked up prior deaths.” Jess gestured at the laptop. “Is there any local legends about that?”

Dean turned back to the laptop pulling up the video message from Tommy Collins. “No legends. The locals did a good job of covering it all up blaming killer bears.” He pressed play. “Watch the video again. Let’s see what we can see.”

The video played, Tommy giving his greeting and smiling at the camera. Jess watched it as close as she could. She watched focusing on the background since Tommy wasn’t what they were looking for. The light flickered like a camp fire outside, but still something about the light was bothering her. 

“Wait.” Dean paused it and looked at her questioningly. “Play it again.”

Again something about the light in the background was wrong. Jess didn’t notice she was frowning until Dean spoke.

“What do you see?” It sounded like he was testing her, but she could tell that he was also genuinely curious about her answer. 

“I don’t know there’s something wrong with the shadows in the background,” she explained. “Maybe slow it down a little?”

“Okay,” Dean fiddled with the settings and clicked through it frame by frame.

“There!” She pointed at the screen right where she’d seen it. “Right there, did you see it?”

Dean leaned closer and squinted. “Hold on a sec.” He went through the frames one by one again and suddenly his expression lightened and he glanced at her with a small smirk. “Good eye.” 

“What is it?” She reached over distractedly prodded at Dean’s hand until he relinquished the keyboard. “Can you tell what it is from that?”

Dean shook his head and watched as Jess played the three frames again. “No idea, but whatever it is, it’s fucking fast.”

Leaning back into her seat, Jess lifted her feet off the floor and folded her legs Indian style. “Okay, so, it takes people every twenty-three years, and it’s fast. That’s not really a lot to go on.” 

“Nope.” Dean sprawled back into his chair and closed down the windows, shutting the laptop he shoved it aside and snatched up his father’s hunting journal. “But it’s a place to start. Dad left the coordinates to find so maybe there’s something in his journal that’ll help us.”

Jess watched him flip through the journal for a moment before she reached over and pulled Dean’s toward her. As gross as some of the stuff in it was, the actual cases were interesting. It was like reading a mystery novel. Only with less “the wife did it” and more “the dead wife from a hundred years ago did it”. Still it was easy to see that it took a pretty intelligent person to put together some of those patterns, especially since having a time lapse of years wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. 

The last case before the Woman in White was a hoodoo priestess stealing exotic zoo animals to use in a spell to raise her husband from the dead and bind him in servitude. Dean drove all the way to New Orleans based off a small article about the theft of an albino python and an endangered tree spider. 

Jess sent a surreptitious glance Dean’s way. If you just looked at him, on first appearance he was a low class drifter; fraying jeans, scuffed boots, an overabundance of plaid, and a perpetual three day scruff. But it took a certain kind of intelligence to make leaps of intuition like that. Not to mention the sheer amount of research that surely goes into hunting, separating the bullshit lore from the real thing. That had to take some serious dedication and outside the box thinking. Especially since fact checking this kind of research meant the difference between life and death. 

Flipping through Dean’s journal Jess thought about how scary smart Sam had been. He’d gotten into Stanford on a full ride and by what she knew about how they’d grown up, he’d done it while moving schools every few months. Dean, despite not having any kind of higher education, was obviously at least as smart as Sam.

It must run in the family, because from what little she’d been able to see of John’s journal he was just as thorough as his son. 

“Have you been able to find anything?” She asked breaking their working silence.

“Nah,” Dean answered absently as he flipped to another page. “Dude wrote like freaking Yoda, but from what I can tell he’d noted the pattern but hadn’t mentioned any theories on what did it.”

Jess looked back down at the page in front of her not really seeing it. She fiddled with the corner of a newspaper clipping stapled to a page about ghouls and debated about whether or not she should say anything. 

Apparently her mouth made up her mind for her because she suddenly found herself asking. “Do you think your dad is actually here?”

That drew Dean’s attention away from the journal and he pinned her with his eyes. 

“I mean,” Jess fidgeted, “he gave you the coordinates to a case. If he was going to be here don’t you think he would have already been working on it?”

Anger flashed his green eyes and she was really regretting saying anything. John Winchester had been a touchy subject for Sam. Even though they obviously got along better, it seemed he was a touchy subject for Dean too. 

Dean had lost his brother, a brother he’d practically raised, his father was missing and the foundation of his life was in upheaval. His life was already so precarious, Jess couldn’t even imagine what the thought of his father not even stepping foot in Blackwater Ridge made him feel. 

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she stumbled over her words, but Dean just raised a hand halting them. 

“No, it’s okay.” He dragged his hand down his face. The anger was gone and he just looked tired. And sad, she thought. “He’s not here. He’s probably never even been here.” 

Closing Dean’s journal slowly, Jess studied him trying to figure out what he was thinking. “If he’s not here then what are we going to do?”

He flashed her a grin, all remnants of his dark mood gone. “Well, since we’re already here, we work the case.”

Jess gave a small smile back and nodded. “Okay, then.”

They spent another hour and a half futilely researching. Dean combed through his father’s journal some more while Jess tried her hand at searching the internet. Unsurprisingly she found jack with a side of shit. Most of what she came across were conspiracy theories on Bigfoot sightings and wilderness survival manuals. The first was ridiculous and the second could be mildly helpful but not what they were looking for.

Finally they had exhausted all their resources for the moment and had exhausted themselves on top of it. Dean disappeared into the bathroom and Jess threw herself down on the closest bed shoving her face into the pillow trying to get the energy up to crawl under the covers. 

She heard the water shut off and the door open then Dean walked over to her and started pushing her off the bed. 

“Hey!” She rolled over and scowled at him, trying to shove his hands away. 

“Nah-uh.” He avoided her hands and shoved her shoulder again. “Get up. I get the bed closest to the door.”

“What? Why?” Jess finally stood up and grumbled unhappily as she slouched over to the other bed. 

“Because,” Dean drawled as he shed his shirt leaving him in a ratty pair of sweatpants, “if anything comes through the door, it’ll have to go through me first.” 

Jess paused in dragging the covers over herself and stared at him. He wanted that bed so he could protect her. Just like in the hospital and in her childhood bedroom, the knowledge that he was there was so comforting. 

A small smile on her face, she finally slid all the way under the covers and hugged the pillow to her chin. She looked over at him as he placed his gun on the bedside table and his huge bowie knife under his pillow. When he leaned over and turned the light off she whispered, “Thanks Dean.”

She didn’t have to say for what. 

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he murmured back trying to sound causal as he rustled the covers around to get comfortable.

“Good night.”

He sighed trying to sound annoyed. He failed. “You too, now go to sleep.” 

*

Sam was pinned to the ceiling above her, bleeding and burning and there was nothing she could do. The fire was consuming everything and the smoke was choking her. She was in pain and afraid and Sam was just looking down at her with a peaceful expression on his face. How could he be so peaceful while his flesh was being burned from his bones?

“Hey! Jess, get up.”

Jerking awake, Jess blinked her blurry eyes and groaned. Her joints felt stiff and her back ached from restlessly curling into the fetal position in the night. 

She rubbed at her eyes and rolled over squinting up at a fully dressed, completely awake Dean. “What? What are you doing?”

“Waking you up,” he answered with a careless grin even as his eyes regarded her with a heavy understanding gaze. He knew then, that she’d had a nightmare. It wasn’t hard to figure out what it had been about either.

Jess flopped over onto her belly squinting past her pillow at the bedside clock. “5 a.m.? Why are we up at 5 a.m.?”

“’Cause we need time to interview Mr. Shaw if we want to catch Haley before she leaves on her hike.”

She squinted at him as he moved away and started packing up their stuff. “Who’s Mr. Shaw?”

“The only survivor of the supposed bear attacks in ’59.” 

“Oh yeah.” Jess rubbed at her face trying to wake up some more even as she thought about the terrible story they’d discovered last night. “The little boy that’d been camping with his parents.”

He shoved all their research in the laptop bag, snatched a to-go coffee cup off the table and brought it over. “Crawled out of the woods barely alive. He’s the only person who might have seen something.” He shoved the cup in her hand. “Here, drink up and get dressed. We gotta shag ass if we want to get there in time.” 

Dressed in a college t-shirt, worn in jeans, and a pair of running shoes, Jess leaned against the car window and dozed through the short drive to their interview. Dean was nice enough to keep his music turned low and let her get what little more rest she could. She wondered how he was so energetic this early in the morning. She thought about her own restless sleep and nightmares and hated the idea that he’d woken from his own night terrors and just never went back to sleep. 

The house was actually an unkempt apartment. The clutter inside spoke of a lonely haunted old man and if he’d seen what they thought he did it was no wonder that he’d had trouble moving on with his life. She knew what it was like to see something and never come back from it. 

“I don’t know what more I can tell you, Ranger,” Mr. Shaw tossed over his shoulder as he led them deeper into his apartment. He had a smoker’s voice and a lit cigarette in his mouth. “It’s all public record. My parents were killed by a grizzly bear.”

He said it like he’d said that exact same sentence a hundred times before. It was the kind of thing that if you said it enough you might start to believe it too.

“Yeah, a grizzly bear,” Dean agreed. “And do you think all the attacks that year were a grizzly bear too?”

Jess bit her lip at the leading question and studied Mr. Shaw’s reaction. He stiffened and hunched over on himself as he collapse in his chair, but he didn’t respond.

“The missing people this year? They were a bear too?”

Mr. Shaw shakily lifted his cigarette to his lips and took a heavy draw. “What else would it be?” Even as he said it, Jess could tell he knew it had to be something very different from a wild animal.

He unsteadily exhaled smoke and his fingers clinched and unclenched around the arm of his chair nervously. Jess could feel the tension rolling off of him. 

“Sir,” she stepped around Dean and sat in the chair next to him, trying to project as much of a comforting presence as she could. “If you tell us what really happened, we might be able to stop it from happening again.”

He snorted at her and lit up a fresh cigarette. “I seriously doubt you could even if you did believe me.”

“Just try us,” she urged gently, sharing a look with Dean before turning her attention back to the old man. “What did you see, Mr. Shaw?”

He huffed darkly and shook his head. “Nothing. It moved too fast. Hid too well. I didn’t even wake up until I heard my parents screaming.”

She was breathing faster, feeling his fear and her own even just from his words. 

“It had a roar like nothing I’d ever heard before, man or animal.” He looked at them with wide uncomprehending eyes. “It didn’t smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it. What bear could do that?”

“Did it kill your parents?” Dean asked lowly.

Mr. Shaw just shook his head. “It dragged them off into the woods. Why it left me alive I’ll never know.” He brought a hand up and pulled down the collar of his shirt. “It did leave me this though. I barely got out of there alive.”

There were four massive raised claw marks across his shoulder and down his chest. It was terrifying to think of something that could do that haunting the woods. Jess’s mouth was dry again and she rubbed her damp palms on the thighs of her jeans. 

Mr. Shaw let his shirt go and settled uneasily back in his chair. “There’s something evil in those woods. It was some sort of monster.”

The hair on the back of Jess’s neck rose up and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at Dean for reassurance. His face was grave and his body was stiff. Whatever it was that they were hunting, it was bad. 

*

“It’s not a demon or spirit, that’s for sure.” They were walking back to the car and even though it was broad daylight, Jess couldn’t help glancing around in paranoia.

“’Cause it can’t move through walls, right?”

Dean flashed her an approving smile. “Yeah, so whatever it is it’s corporeal. Which means we can kill it.”

“Oh good.” Jess let out a strangled chuckle. “Now how do we do that?”

“No idea.” He popped open the trunk and the weapons locker. “Take a bit of everything to cover our bases.”

“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, maybe research it some more?” she hedged, watching him load a duffle with weapons. 

“That Haley girl and her brother are going to be hiking around in those woods looking for their brother. If we don’t catch up with them, they’ll be the monster’s next victims.” 

She sighed, resigned. “Well, if we’re going to be hiking we’re going to have to get some supplies.”

“Like what?” Dean sounded honestly curious.

“Like water and food,” she answered incredulously.

“Oh.” He blinked. “Yeah.”

The trip for supplies consisted of a stop off at a convenience store on the way to the park. Jess rushed through grabbing granola bars and beef jerky and bags of nuts. She grabbed 4 liter sized bottles of water from the fridge and turned to find Dean debating between peanut butter M&Ms and original M&Ms.

“Dean!” 

“What?” Dean glanced over at her his face a picture of innocence. “Peanut butter’s good for you.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, let’s just go.”

They got to the cashier and checked out with a small pause to toss two of those novelty lighters in with the rest of their stuff. Both lighters had semi-naked ladies on the sides. 

Dean grinned in the face of Jess’s scowl. “You can never have too many lighters.”

She supposed she should be lucky he hadn’t picked up any of the porno mags he’d been not so discreetly eyeing earlier.

Provisions packed away in Dean’s backpack and weapons duffle almost too heavy to lift, they pulled up behind Haley’s truck just as they were about to set off. 

It seemed they had interrupted an argument between Haley and an older man carrying a rifle, presumably the guide. Everyone turned to look at them as they got out of the car and Jess shifted the backpack on her shoulder nervously. She got the feeling their intrusion wasn’t going to be overly welcome. 

“Hey, got room for two more?” Dean grinned and sauntered up to them completely ignoring the suspicious looks they were getting. 

“You know these guys?” the guide, Roy, asked Haley scowling.

“They’re apparently the best the park service could muster up for the search and rescue,” she said. “You want to come with us?”

Dean kept grinning in the face of her dubiousness. “You said it. We’re the search and rescue team.”

Jess wasn’t at all surprised when Haley and Roy looked them both up and down disbelievingly. “And you’re hiking out in jeans and biker boots?”

Dean scoffed, “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t do shorts,” and walked past them toward the trail. 

“You think this is funny?” Roy demanded stomping after him. “It’s dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt.”

Dean turned back to look at him, his grin gone. “Believe me, I know just how dangerous it can be.”

Haley scowled and turned to Jess. “Is he serious about this, ‘cause it doesn’t seem like he is.”

Jess met her gaze and nodded. “He is. We know how dangerous it is out there. We just want to help you find Tommy.”

She held Jess’s gaze recognizing her sincerity. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

Roy scowled some more and grumbled, “I don’t think this is a good idea,” but no one said anything to that.

*

The hike up to the campsite was filled with tense silence and sporadic flirting. Dean flirted with Haley and she usually declined to flirt back. Jess’s options were either walking with Ben or Roy if she didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of that. 

Unsurprisingly, she figured Ben would be the less contentious choice. 

“How are you doing with all this?” she asked as she sidled up to the teenager. 

He pulled his earbuds from his ears and eyed her. “Okay, I guess.” He paused and weighed the choice of telling her more. “It’s scary,” he admitted. “Haley and Tommy are all I have.”

Jess felt for him. She could relate. “I know what you mean. Dean’s pretty much all I have right now too.” 

He looked ahead where Haley and Dean were discussing Dean’s lack of real food supplies. 

“What happened?”

Taking a breath, Jess pushed down the reflexive grief. “About a month ago, my boyfriend, Sam, died in a fire. Dean was Sam’s brother and they’d just been on a weekend trip. Dean pretty much pulled me out of the fire. He saved my life, but it was too late for Sam.”

Ben frowned in sympathy. “I’m sorry.” 

She smiled sadly. “Me too. But now it’s just Dean and me. We got close after Sam died, supported each other. Now we’re on the road looking for Dean’s father.”

“You’re looking for family too.” He’d lost some of his tension now that they had something in common and gave her a smile. 

Jess squeezed his arm comfortingly. “Yeah. Don’t worry, we’ll find your brother.” 

“I hope you find Dean’s dad,” he offered.

Jess smiled again. “Thanks, me too.”

The rest of the hike to camp would have gone smoothly if Dean hadn’t started to irritate Roy. 

“So, Roy,” he drawled. “You said you’ve done a little hunting. Tell me, what kind of things did you hunt?”

Roy shot him a scowl. “Buck mostly, sometimes bear.”

Dean opened his mouth and Jess could just tell something smartass was going to come out of it. She shoved her way between them. 

“Dean, don’t needle him.” 

He pouted at her then smirked. “Aw, come on, Jess. We were just having some friendly conversation.”

She frowned at him. “That’s not what-”

Roy’s hand shot out, he grabbed Jess’s arm and yanked her back. She barely had time to gasp before Dean pulled her away with an arm around her waist as he grabbed Roy’s wrist with his other hand twisting it painfully until he released her. 

“Don’t touch her,” he growled. Everyone was frozen in shock.

Roy appraised Dean, taking in his dark glare and his protective stance. He raised his hands non-threatening then bent down, picked up a long stick and shoved it into the ground. 

Two giant metal jaws with huge teeth snapped closed, crunching the stick in half. Jess’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the trap with wide eyes. Dean’s arm around her middle tightened.

“Bear trap,” Roy explained into the tense silence. 

Jess looked back up at him and swallowed thickly. “Thank you.”

“Sure, just watch where you’re stepping.” He turned away and started forward again.

Dean’s arm wrapped around her slowly retreated until she wasn’t pressed into his side any more. 

“Are you okay?”

She nodded jerkily and rubbed her palms shakily over her thighs. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Dean studied her for a second then nodded. “Just stick close to me, okay?”

“Sure thing.” She kind of wanted to plaster herself to his side again, but didn’t think that was socially appropriate or safe when walking around in monster infested woods. 

The rest of the hike was pretty quiet. They followed the curves in the trail and stopped for a rest near an island of boulders. Jess leaned against a tree and tried to catch her breath. She was really out of shape. Even with Dean’s quick defense lessons she was nowhere near being able to handle a steady march for more than an hour or two.

She pulled a bottle of water out of her backpack taking long gulps until she didn’t feel like she was dying of thirst anymore. Dean gestured wordlessly at her and she passed it over. The quick rest was nice and she used the time to study their surroundings. That was when something caught her eye. 

On a boulder five feet away almost hidden by some ferns was a pictogram. It was a humanoid figure with a pointed tapered shape for a torso, a single line for a spine, a wide hip area, and thin stick like limbs. Its fingers were elongated and spread out, like claws. 

It wasn’t a pleasant image. 

“I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before.” 

Jess turned to see Dean looking over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“Some kind of ancient Native American symbol. Can’t remember what it means though.” He shrugged and straightened up leading her back to the others. “It’s been a while since I brushed up on my obscure Native American lore.”

When they finally hit the coordinates that John had left in his journal, 35-111 was unnaturally still and disturbingly quiet. How anyone didn’t notice the absolutely creepy vibes the forest ahead was putting off was beyond her. 

“That’s not normal, right?” she murmured to Dean, not taking her eyes off the woods. “That’s like a really bad omen.”

“Oh yeah,” Dean agreed. “No way there’s not some kind of creepy crawly in there.”

She swallowed down a whimper. “It’s like every single horror movie ever. Don’t go into the dark scary woods the crazy ax murderer is probably waiting for you.”

Dean huffed in amusement and grinned at her. “That’s the job, darlin’. All we do is go into dark woods looking for crazy ax murderers.”

They hiked to the camp where Tommy and his friends were staying in tense silence. Jess didn’t think the other three really knew why their internal alarms were going off, but she could tell that they were definitely feeling it. Even Roy had slowed his determined march through the forest and was scanning the trees around them warily. 

When they got their first glimpse of camp Haley ran ahead and that feeling of imminent danger only got worse. 

“Oh my God,” she gasped. Jess stumbled into the clearing right after her and her heart sank. 

The tents were ripped apart. One was blood stained, the other two totally destroyed. There were supplies and backpacks scattered across the campsite and it was hard to believe that anyone could have survived an attack like this. 

“Looks like a grizzly,” Roy observed. 

Dean scoffed and started to examine the outer edges of the campsite. Jess just stood frozen looking around at the destruction. She was scared. She was woman enough to admit that. Just looking around at the aftermath of whatever was out there made her stomach knot up. 

“Tommy!” 

Jess jerked her eyes to Haley as she started shouting out into the woods. Oh that was such a bad idea!

“Tommy!”

“Wait!” Jess hissed and jogged to grab at the other girl’s shoulders stopping her from moving further out. “Stop, yelling. Something might hear you.”

The bushes rustled and Jess almost jumped out of her skin until she saw Dean step back into sight. 

He was frowning and stiff. Catching Jess’s gaze he jerked his head to the side and she followed him away from the others. 

“There were drag marks,” he told her. “It dragged them away from camp then the tracks just vanish.”

“Do you know what it is?” 

He shook his head. “I can tell you it’s no skinwalker or black dog.”

“Okay.” Jess took a breath and tried to look on the bright side. “That’s two down, there’s only like a hundred more left to go.” 

His lips twitched in amusement. “Gotta look for the silver lining.”

Jess glanced back at the others and sadly watched Haley pick up a crushed satellite phone. “Do you think he could still be alive?”

Dean followed her gaze and shrugged. “Maybe.” He didn’t sound particularly hopeful.

As if things couldn’t get any creepier, suddenly someone, or something, started screaming out in the woods. 

“ _Hey! Help!_ ”

Roy jets into the woods and like idiots they all run after him chasing the distressed yell. 

“ _Somebody help me!_ ”

The calls stop abruptly and Jess’s heart raced. “It stopped.”

“It was coming from over here, wasn’t it?” Haley asked quietly.

Dean gritted his teeth and ordered, “Everyone back to camp. Come on!”

Their packs were gone. Haley and Ben’s packs, Dean’s weapon duffle, Jess’s provisions backpack, and Roy’s satellite phone and GPS. Things looked grim and they were screwed.

“What the hell is going on?” Haley demanded.

Dean kicked at some ruined camp detritus on the ground. “It’s smart. Distracted us so it could grab our stuff.” 

“It?” Roy scoffed his hands clenching around his rifle. “You mean some nut-job out there stole all our gear.”

“I mean, something out there wants us isolated and cut off from help,” Dean bit out.

The pictogram Jess found earlier flashed through her mind. “Dean,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him away off to the side again. “Dean, remember that drawing we found.” 

“Yeah.” Dean looked at her curiously. 

“Maybe it was a sign,” she said. “Maybe the Native Americans were trying to warn against something.”

His eyes widened. “Shit! I knew I’d seen that somewhere before.”

Reaching into his jacket he pulled out John’s journal and started frantically flipping through it.

“Yahtzee.” 

He snapped his fingers and pointed at an almost exact copy of the pictogram they saw earlier. Jess skimmed the page and a shiver when up her spine. 

“A wendigo?”

“I never heard of one this far west, but it fits,” he said. “The claws, the fake distress call, the way it takes its prey alive.”

Jess leaned closer and read through the passage more thoroughly. She looked back up at Dean and she knew her face was pale. “It says it’s impervious to all weapons devised by man.” 

Dean snorted and pulled out his gun. “Yeah, means these are useless.” 

Jess pressed a hand over the weight of Sam’s gun in the shoulder holster Dean had given her. “If guns and knives don’t work, how are we supposed to kill it?”

“The only thing that’ll work is fire.” 

She let out a strangled chuckle. “It’s probably a good thing, then, that you picked up those lighters.”

“I told you.” Dean grinned. “You can never have too many lighters.”

Turning back to the others, Dean clapped his hands to get their attention. “Listen up, people. Shit just got a whole lot worse, so everybody pack up and let’s get you to safety.”

Haley looked at him incredulously. “Wait, what?”

“Kid, you’re in no position to give orders and I can take care of anything in these woods.” Roy snorted derisively. 

“This isn’t a rabid grizzly bear or a psychotic nutjob, Roy. This thing is a damn near perfect hunter,” Dean growled back. “It’s good during the day, it’s unbelievable at night. If we want to get out of here while we still can, now is the time to do it.”

“I’ve been hunting in these woods while your mommy was still kissing you goodnight, there isn’t anything in these woods.”

Dean stomped toward him and, despite being a couple inches shorter, loomed over him. “Tell me, Roy. You ever heard of Yogie or Bambie hunting you back? You ever heard of them stalking you in the night then dragging you off somewhere to eat you alive?”

Roy just sneered. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“I’m trying to protect you!”

“Stop it! Just stop!” Haley snapped stepping between them. “You said it takes them alive. If there’s a chance Tommy might still be alive I’m staying.” 

“Me too!” Ben moved closer to his sister, resolved even though Jess could tell he was scared.

Dean just glared between Haley and Roy debating which one he should try to convince, but Jess knew there was no way they were going to get anyone out of here until they either found Tommy alive or found his body.

She walked over and slipped her hand into Dean’s giving it a squeeze. 

“Dean. It’s their brother.”

He held her gaze for a long tense moment then looked away. Giving her hand a quick squeeze in return he moved away. 

“If we’re going to stay the first thing we need is a fire.” 

*

Nightfall didn’t help anything, much less sooth anyone’s tempers. Roy was scoffing at everything Dean said, Dean was growling and gritting his teeth, and Haley and Ben were just terrified. Jess wasn’t any better. 

Something was out there stalking them. She swore she could feel its attention on them, its anticipation for the hunt. Outside their small circle of campfire light the forest was completely silent. Even the animals knew to stay away. 

Dean was circling their camp with a stick and a knife he’d had in his pocket, drawing symbols in the dirt and carving them in the trees. It was a familiar sight. Jess had grown accustom to Dean adding his supernatural protections around her and watching him do it now was comforting. She knew she wasn’t really safe out here in a wendigo’s hunting grounds, but the illusion was helping her keep her cool. 

“How does he know all this stuff?”

Jess turned to Haley, tearing her eyes away from Dean. “He grew up in it. It’s kinda like a family business.” 

“What a terrible family business,” Haley murmured her eyes following the motion of Dean’s stick drawing in the dirt. 

“Yeah,” Jess sighed. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” 

“Aw, it’s not so bad.” 

The girls jumped and looked to where Dean had come up next to them to scratch the final symbol. “The family business; saving people, hunting things.” He gave them a grin. “Hell, on a good day you even get to save a pretty girl.” 

Haley didn’t look too impressed when he winked at her.

Huffing, Jess shoved at Dean’s shoulder. “Seriously, Dean. We could get eaten by a mutant cannibal. This isn’t the time to flirt.”

“Sweetheart, it’s always the time to flirt.” 

Both girls rolled their eyes, but Dean had accomplished what he’d aimed to do which was to lighten the mood. One of the most important rules of the hunt was to keep the civilians calm. Panicking civilians equals dead civilians. 

By the softening in Jess’s expression he knew she’d figured him out. 

“Okay, one more time, you’re doing what?” Haley asked, turning back to their predicament. 

“I’m circling the camp in Anasazi symbols to ward off the wendigo,” explained Dean, pulling out John’s journal and turning it so Haley could just see the symbols without getting an eyeful of the gory details. 

“So they can’t cross the circle?” Ben asked having inched his way closer to his sister. 

“Yeah, as long as we stick to the circle we should be safe.”

He gave Ben a reassuring smile then pulled Jess to her feet to sit a few feet away. 

“How are you doing with all this?” 

Jess pressed her hands between her thighs to hide the fine tremble. “I’m doing okay,” she murmured lowly. “It’s not as bad as being burned alive on the ceiling.”

“But it’s not a picnic either,” Dean finished for her. 

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Definitely not a picnic. On a picnic you don’t have to worry about the ants carrying you off to eat you.”

“You’d be surprised.” 

Jess really didn’t want to know if he was serious or not. 

She frowned and whispered, “Dean, how are we going to get out of here?”

He reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. “This is what I- what we do,” he answered tapping at his journal with a finger. “Saving people, hunting things. We’ll find that fucker, gank it, save their brother, and then go find Dad.”

Jess sucked in a steadying breath and nodded. “Okay. So we kill it, then we leave.”

He grinned at her. “Sure, it should be a piece of cake.”

“ _Help! Help me!_ ”

Every head in their little hastily erected camp snapped toward the screaming distress call and Jess felt an icy shiver run up her spine. 

Dean jumped to his feet his gun held steady in his palm putting himself between them and the direction of the call. 

“It’s cool,” he murmured even as his eyes flickered back and forth into the darkness. “Everybody stay calm. It can’t get us in here.”

“Stay in the magic circle,” Roy muttered warily as he inched closer to the center of said magic circle. 

Jess moved back to Haley fighting her instinct to just plaster herself to Dean’s side again and never leave. Grabbing the other girl’s hand she tried to give it a reassuring squeeze as she reached across toward Ben too. It kinda failed spectacularly. Especially since the next call ended in a terrifying roar. 

“Okay, that’s not a bear,” Roy said lifting his rifle to his shoulder. 

Jess’s breath caught in her throat. “Dean.”

“It’s okay, just stay-”

The wendigo, because seriously there was little to no doubt about that now, buzzed past them on the very edge of their protective circle. Jess didn’t even try to stop her yelp of fear, she just held onto to Haley and Ben tighter pulling them as close to the fire as they could get. 

It made another pass flying around the camp, racing through the brushes too fast for the eye to see. Jess could just barely hear Haley whispering, “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” to her little brother over the sound of her own pounding heartbeat. 

Suddenly there was an ear splitting _pop_ then Roy was shouting victoriously and running off into the bushes. Jess’s knees gave out under her when she realized Dean was about to give chase.

“Dean!” she yelled. She was not afraid to admit that she was pretty close to tears. 

“Just stay there!” he snapped, pointing at them then he disappeared into the trees too. 

“Are we gonna die?” Ben asked with a barely suppressed whimper. 

_Probably._

“No.” Jess’s voice came out steadier than she would have guessed. Almost like she wasn’t about to pee her pants. “Dean’s been hunting these creatures his whole life. This’ll be a piece of cake.” 

If she got out of this alive ,she was pretty sure she’d never look at cake the same way again.

*

Their situation didn’t look much better in the daylight considering their number had been shortened by one. It was like every horror movie cliché ever. The cocky asshole gets axed first. Jess was just glad she wasn’t a slutty bimbo. The slutty blonds always bit it pretty early on. 

“We hunt it in the daylight,” Dean said as he tested his new gas station lighter to make sure it worked. “It evens the plaything field a bit. So we have half a chance.” 

A slim, almost negligible chance, but sure let’s be optimistic. Jess was sure Dean was only holding back on his cynicism for Haley and Ben’s benefit, but she was grateful nonetheless. There was only so much grim truth she could take after a sleepless night of being goosed by an immortal cannibal monster.

“Only thing that’ll kill it is fire,” Dean reiterated holding up the Molotov cocktail he’d scrounged up from the cheap crappy alcohol Tommy and his friends had brought. “Since I got our only ammo, I’ll lead. Just stay close and don’t fall behind.” 

“Sure,” Haley muttered exhausted and scared. “Don’t get picked off by the man eating monster. Easy.”

Dean amused by her sarcasm, gestured regally toward the forest, “This way, mi’ladies.”

They trudged out into the woods following the bloodied claw marks scored high in the trees. The air was thick with tension and the woods around them were still utterly silent. It was baffling how anyone would choose here to make camp. Jess wasn’t even an expert hunter and she could tell that there was something wrong in these woods just by the silence. 

They hadn’t gone very far when the first bits of Roy started showing up. 

Jess stared down at the thing on the ground and swallowed thickly. “Is that…”

“Yep.” Dean was crouched down examining the severed limb. “That’s about one-fifth of Roy.”

There was a miserable groan and Jess felt her stomach turn in sympathy as Ben heaved at the base of a tree again. Haley was resolutely not looking at the dismembered body part as she rubbed her brother’s back. 

“Why didn’t it, you know, eat him?” Jess asked in a murmur trying not to let her voice carry to the siblings.

“Roy shot at it.” Dean straightened up smoothly not a single indication that seeing a ripped off leg bothered him. “Pissed it off.” 

“And it just decided to rip him apart and leave us a trail of Roy to follow?” Jess muttered skeptically. 

Frowning, Dean looked from the leg to the trees and the now suspiciously convenient scattering of claw marks. His face turned grimmer. Obviously he didn’t like where his mind was going. 

“Yeah, I’m not liking it either.” 

Despite that ominous realization, the four of them doggedly continued on. Though the further they got into the forest, the more strategically placed claw marks and seemingly haphazard bits and pieces of Roy they stumbled upon Dean became increasingly unhappy. 

It didn’t take an idiot to figure out that the wendigo was leading them into a trap. It went unspoken between Jess and Dean that they were trying and probably failing to keep Haley and Ben from catching on. 

“It’s playing with us,” Jess hissed in Dean’s ear, her growing unease turning her voice sharp. “Like a cat batting at a mouse.”

Dean made some inappropriate smartass crack about Tom and Jerry and Jess just wanted to smack him. 

Before she could though there was a rustle in the trees above them and a hair raising growl. 

Freezing like the aforementioned mouse in front of a cat, their group paused for a split second then Dean shouted.

“Run! Run, run!” 

Jess had been on her high school track team, had been one of her team’s fastest runners, but she had never run so damn fast in her life. She was pretty sure she’d just broken the sound barrier she jetted so quickly. 

Somehow Dean ended up at the back of the pack, Haley a step behind Jess and Ben lagging a dangerous few feet behind her. Jess didn’t slow her pace until the sound of a body hitting the ground made it past her panic. Skidding on dirt and rocks she tried to change course and go back. Ben had face planted tripping over a tree root and Dean was trying to yank him to his feet again even as he waved violently at them and shouted. 

“Go! Go!” 

It was almost Pavlovian how compelled she was to follow his orders. Jess sped up again snatching Haley’s arm on her way past jerking her into forward momentum. 

Unfortunately, they didn’t make it very far. 

It came out of nowhere. From the side or above or behind, Jess couldn’t tell. She was running then she was tossed ten feet in the air as Haley screamed in terror. Landing hard on her side Jess tried to roll to lessen the impact, but she didn’t even get a chance. A clawed hand dragged her up with an agonizing grip around her ribcage. She was pretty sure she was bleeding. 

Her body left the ground and it almost felt like flying. If flying involved the smell of decaying flesh and a steely, leathery arm wrapped around her waist. The sight of trees racing past was nauseating, Jess’s head was throbbing from hitting it on the ground, and her side felt like it was on fire. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Haley’s wide terrified eyes staring down at her from over the wendigo’s shoulder. 

*

Jess reluctantly flickered in and out of consciousness. She saw tunnels of rock, rusted iron tracks in the ground, the barest peeks of sunlight through wooden planks above, and piles upon piles of mud crusted skulls. 

The muscles in her arms and shoulders were pulling painfully as her weight bore down on them. She was vaguely aware that she was cold and the entire left side of her body was covered in blood. Her position hanging from her wrists just pulled the slashes across her ribs open and prevented them from clotting. 

She had a thought, before she passed out again. Dean was going to be all alone after the wendigo ate her. Then she weakly smiled and thought that Dean was going kill the fucker so fucking dead that its creepy evil wendigo ancestors would burn. 

*

Gasping awake to the feel of a warm callused hand against her neck and the sight of Dean’s concerned face was like seeing an angel. 

Jess choked on a sob and tipped her head forward to knock uncomfortably against Dean’s. “Dean, you’re an angel.” 

He chuckled relieved. He pulled a knife and cut the rope around her wrists. “It’s my divine good looks, isn’t it?” 

“Shut up,” she muttered then groaned when her arms finally lowered and the pain came back with a vengeance.

The sight of another hanging body appeared in the corner of her eye. “Haley,” she rasped as Dean helped her stumbled down to sit against a pile of discarded camping gear along the cave wall. “Is she okay?”

Dean wasted no time in getting to the other girl and cutting her down. She was awake and coherent and relatively unharmed. Then she caught sight of her brother hanging not ten feet from her. 

“Oh, God. Tommy!” 

Tommy, unsurprisingly, was in bad shape. Dehydrated, injured, and concussed. It was a miracle he was upright even with being supported by his sister and brother on either side. 

Jess sighed and collapsed back against the uncomfortable pile of hiking backpacks and duffels. 

“Dean,” her voice was dry and scraped against her throat. “Dean, is it dead? The wendigo, is it dead?”

The only response was the tearful murmurs of the Collins siblings and the sound of Dean rummaging through the camping equipment scattered around them. 

Jess opened her eyes and blinked back exhausted tears to see Dean’s grim, determined expression. He was arm deep in a familiar duffle. 

“Dean?”

Turning toward her, he had a flare gun in each hand and a sharp grin on his lips. “Not yet, but it’s gonna be.”

He looked dangerous and energized and Jess thought that he looked completely in his element. Dirty, and bloody, and surrounded by death, Dean looked ready to take on the world and win. She wondered if this was what he looked like every hunt and was willing to bet it was. 

The mad mischievous glint in his eyes gave her strength and she shoved to her feet steadier than she thought she’d be. 

“What do you need me to do?”

His grin widened. 

Mere minutes later, Jess was white-knuckling a flare gun and staring off after Dean as he ran screaming through the mining shafts. 

“Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that’s right! Bring it on, baby, I taste good!”

“Holy shit, he’s crazy,” Tommy croaked.

Jess turned back to the siblings willing herself not to completely panic. “Come on, let’s go. This way.” She led the way through the tunnels in the direction of daylight trying to keep the pace as fast as possible when three fourths of their group was injured and concussed. 

It felt like forever until finally they were almost to the entrance. Jess could practically see the trees outside and she shoved the siblings ahead of her urging them to move faster. She couldn’t shake the thought that once they made it into the sunlight they would be safe. 

Five feet from the crumbling boarded up entrance Jess jerked to a stop when she heard a small explosion, an angry roar, and a yelp of pain that was unmistakably Dean. 

Ben and Tommy were already out, but Haley had paused and was waiting for her. Jess gave her a shove and shouted, “Just go, we’ll be right behind you!”

Then she turned back to the dark and ran toward the sounds of fighting. 

She only had to run to the first tunnel offshoot, skidding into the rock wall as she tried to turn. Dean was bleeding on the ground backed up against a fresh cave-in. His flare gun empty and discarded in the dirt. The wendigo was poised over him with a long clawed hand raised a breath away from slashing Dean in two. 

Time slowed and Jess took a breath, steadied herself against the wall, aimed center mass on the emaciated monster straight out of her nightmares, and squeezed the trigger. 

It was different from shooting an actual gun, but it was fairly close range and Jess knew when she saw that monster standing over Dean that she wouldn’t miss. Missing wasn’t an option. 

The flare exploded when it hit the wendigo and the creature went up like a match burning to ash in less than a minute. It was terrifying to watch and it smelled worse, but it was infinitely satisfying. If she wasn’t so sure she was about to black out with adrenaline, Jess would have been whooping in joy. 

The monster was dead, she killed it. It would never be eating anymore campers again, not ever. 

Dean looked surprised even as he grinned proudly at her through the blood in his teeth. “Congratulations, darlin’. You just ganked your first monster.” 

Jess grinned back, then in the calm of the moment the adrenaline from the last forty-eight hours suddenly drained away and the smell of burning putrid flesh hit her full force. 

Her stomach dropped and she paled. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Dean pushed himself up to his feet and skirted around the wendigo’s smoking remains. “Okay, but aim that way or you’re gonna block the exit.”

Jess missed the exit, but not Dean’s boots. The disgusted disgruntled look on his face was kinda worth it. 

*

Dean was pretty much the only member of their group that wasn’t totally traumatized. The trek back to civilization was thickly quiet. Haley and Ben were on either side of Tommy and refused to move farther than an arm’s length away from him. 

It was lucky that all their gear had still been piled up in the mining tunnels or Jess was pretty sure none of them would have actually made it out of the woods despite having killed their evil cannibal stalker. It was an unspoken agreement that Tommy would get most of the water since he was dangerously dehydrated. There was a precarious moment when he tried to eat one of the power bars Jess had bought. 

A starved, dried out, beaten up man throwing up in the wilderness was dangerous. After the heaving stopped he just kept to sips of water. 

They didn’t get through the woods until night had already fallen. It was a miracle there was always a ranger staying in the visitor’s center at any given time. Needless to say Ranger Wilkinson’s stunned expression when they pounded on his door bloodied and dirty was satisfying in a petty “I told you so” way.

It wasn’t until the EMS and sheriff’s department showed up that Jess really registered that they were truly safe. She almost cried in relief. 

Tommy was loaded up into an ambulance and Haley was hovering by his side while Ben, with direction from Dean, was feeding the cops their cover story of a nine hundred pound killer bear. 

Without the task of making sure that they all made it out of Blackwater Ridge alive, standing alone among the chaos of blue and red lights and bewildered park rangers Jess felt unmoored and abandoned. Her body finally started to feel all the pain of her injuries and she was pretty sure she was about to collapse. 

She must have looked it too, because suddenly there was an EMT at her elbow tugging and shoving her toward a second ambulance. Between one blink and the next Jess was perched on the back of the ambulance with a professional male EMT cutting her t-shirt off. She could barely spare the energy to be thankful she’d decided to wear a bra when they’d left the motel the day before. 

“Where does it hurt, ma’am?”

“Huh?” Jess jerked her gaze away from watching Dean placate the cops to look at her EMT.

“Are you injured anywhere else?” He repeated even as he poked her with needles to numb her side and started thoroughly cleaning her wendigo claw marks with saline and gauze. 

“Uh, yeah,” she rasped and vaguely waved toward her head. “I hit my head.” 

“Alright.” The EMT reached over to snag something or other medical and started pinching her wounds together. “These actually aren’t too deep. You won’t need stitches so I’m just closing them up with butterfly bandages.”

“Okay.” Jess nodded gingerly her head pounding with exhaustion now that she had a moment to calm down. 

“Lean forward, please.” He cut her hair band releasing her hair to fall down around her shoulders so he could paw through it to get to her head wound. 

After that there was a series of questions to assess whether she had a concussion or not. She went through the motions and found out she had a minor concussion but it wasn’t serious enough to require a trip to the hospital. 

She didn’t notice Dean had come to watch over the proceedings until she heard his deep voice. 

“She gonna live, Doc?”

The EMT regarded him unimpressed. “If she starts throwing up or gets dizzy take her to a hospital and keep her side clean and bandaged, but other than that she’s free to go.”

“Thanks.” Dean nodded sincerely and turned the entirety of his attention to her. 

“How you doing, Jess?”

She felt some of her strength return with his steadying presence. She snorted and answered him honestly as she tugged her jacket back on over her bra. 

“Fucking terrible.” 

He grinned at her. “Yeah, that’s about right. You get used to it.”

“Remind me why I thought it was a good idea to hitch my ride to your crazy train?”

His grin just got bigger and he shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m just that irresistible.”

Jess had the strength to roll her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

Grin melting into concern, Dean reached over and placed a warm gentle hand on her shoulder. “Seriously, how are you?”

She was quiet for a moment taking stock of not just her aches and pains but her mental state as well. 

“Just say the word and I’ll take you home.” 

Meeting his eyes again, Jess found it was easy to give him a genuine smile. “I’m right where I want to be.”

His expression lightened and his eyes glinted happily. “Just what I want to hear.”

Reaching up to place a hand over his she curled their fingers together and squeezed hard before letting go. She stiffly pushed herself to her feet with help from Dean’s hand under her elbow. Her knees quivered and she gave up trying to power through, leaning heavily into Dean’s side. He took her weight easily and kept her upright with an arm around her waist. 

The two of them hobbled toward the Impala. Jess looked up into Dean’s face and grinned. “So, where to next?” 

TBC...


	4. Phantom Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life on the road was getting easier. The hunts, however, were not.

*  
Being on the road without a set destination was different than following cryptic coordinates. First of all it left a whole lot more time for thinking. Thinking, Jess realized, was bad. Mainly because all she could really think about was either grief stained memories of Sam, or the terror she felt at falling deeper into this dangerous life of hunting the things in the night. 

The nightmares didn’t stop; the nightmares of Sam burning up on the ceiling above her. Of course now they were joined by graphic images of piles of human bones and immortal cannibals bearing down on her. 

There was a mutual agreement between her and Dean that their respective nightmares were to go unmentioned until they brought it up on their own. Of course neither of them brought them up so they both spent restless nights tossing and turning on terrible motel beds. 

Motel beds, Jess reflected, were almost universally terrible. Stiff as plywood, covered with dubiously stained comforters, and made up with overly bleached scratchy sheets. It completely baffled her how Dean could get any sleep on them whatsoever, much less wake up not feeling like his skin was crawling with the prospect of bed bugs. 

“You almost never get bedbugs,” Dean told her casually as if he wasn’t talking about one of the most disgusting things in the universe. “Just try and stay away from the pay-by-the-hour and you should be fine.” 

“You said try,” Jess pointed out kinda panicking at the prospect. “Try implies the actual possibility of staying in one.” 

“Well, sure.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “If you’re low on money. Plus they’re usually the ones with the Magic Fingers.” 

“Magic fingers?” she asked dubiously.

“Yeah,” he grinned at her. “You know, the vibrating beds. So worth it.” 

She couldn’t tell if he was messing with her or not.

The nightmares and the occasionally clean motels were two things that made adjusting to her new life difficult, but getting used to sharing so much time and space with Dean, who was still a relative stranger despite shared grief and near death experiences, was an adjustment all on its own. 

He had a cassette tape box of 80’s hair bands and refused to let her choose the radio station. The same eight albums and he sang along to all of them. There was no effort to harmonize and it was so bad she couldn’t tell if he was actually doing it on purpose or if he was really just that bad. 

“Seriously,” Jess finally snapped after the third round of the same Led Zepplin album. “If we don’t listen to something else I’m gonna scream.”

“Hey.” He slapped her hands away from the radio dials. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.” 

Jess stared at him blankly. “Then we’re going to switch next stop.”

“Nope.” Dean flashed her a shit eatin’ grin. “Nobody drives Baby but me.” 

Two days later, Jess was pretty sure she was going to either toss all his cassette tapes (cassette tapes, really?) out the window or she was going to toss him out the window.

When they got a motel that night she took the bus then walked three blocks to the closest BestBuy. Dipping into her savings account, she dropped forty bucks on an mp3 player and fifty bucks on buying as much music as she could fit on it.

The next morning when she didn’t have to listen to Metallica blaring from the speakers for two hours straight she decided it was one of the best investments she’d ever made.

Jess had roommates before. It was unavoidable when you were a broke college student forced to live off ramen and cold pizza, so most of Dean’s other little quirks were easy to overlook. Leaving the toilet seat up; annoying, but she’d gotten used to that living with Sam. Toothpaste squeezed from the middle and smeared all inside the cap; kinda a gross, but whatever. Burger wrappers and beer bottles piled up on all flat surfaces; aggravating, but with prodding he cleaned it up. 

She could handle all that. Even the dirty clothes spread around the room were just a minor annoyance. But what really got her goat was that every time he got first shower there was absolutely no hot water left. None. Not even a trickle. 

It enraged her. 

“Swear to God, Dean. If you use up all the hot water, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He smirked dismissively as he sauntered into the bathroom. “You’ll have plenty of hot water.”

Forty-five minutes of an excessively long shower later, Jess was washing her hair in ice cold water. 

Over the next three days, Dean didn’t like the loose lid on the salt shaker, or all his whites coming out of the washing machine pink, but it was the itching powder in every single pair of his boxers that finally got to him. 

“You didn’t.” He stared at her incredulously as he squirmed around in the driver’s seat.

Jess was unrepentant. “I warned you.”

Dean tugged at the crotch of his jeans and whined. “But all my boxers?”

“Every single one of them,” she nodded. “Even the pair with the hole in the butt.” 

“That’s just cruel, woman.”

“Promise to give me first shower and I’ll promise to stop tormenting you.”

He huffed and gave up trying to be modest and just shoved his hand down his pants to scratch himself. “Fine, you get first shower and all the hot water you want.” 

Grinning triumphantly, Jess crossed her arms casually and lounged back in the passenger seat. “Thank you.”

Dean scowled and squirmed the entire way to the next rest stop. He disappeared into the bathroom with a pair of clean jeans and didn’t emerge until he’d scrubbed as much of the itching powder off his junk as he could with wet paper towels. Needless to say he went commando until he could buy a brand new package of underwear. 

It wasn’t just an adjustment for Jess. Dean had never had to share space with a woman for longer than a night. He didn’t realize that women could actually be as inconsiderate and disgusting as men in their own way.

The clumps of long blond hair in the shower drain were nasty. The boxes of tampons periodically materializing were awkward. The avalanche of cosmetics and mystery beauty products taking over the bathroom was annoying. Using every single towel except for a lone threadbare washcloth was frustrating. The only potential highlight of sharing space with a woman was the panties and bras hanging up around the room to air dry. 

And he couldn’t even enjoy that since every time he spotted a frilly pair of boy-shorts or a lacy bra he felt shame for perving on Sam’s girlfriend. 

Bumpy adjustment to each other aside, teaching Jess about the supernatural was one of the few things neither of them could complain about. 

Jess discovered that the more she learned about the life the closer she actually felt to Sam. Dean found that focusing on preparing Jess, teaching her everything she needed to know to survive helped dull the constant burn of grief. 

It was something to focus on and both of them sorely needed something to focus on so they didn’t spend all their time lost in their own heads. 

Dean taught Jess how they found hunts. 

“Obituaries,” Dean said tapping the newspaper between them with his pen. “Best place to start.” 

“Right.” Jess nodded and scanned the page for anything that was odd according to Dean’s parameters. “Strange deaths; accidents, murders, suicides, and animal attacks.” 

“You got it.” 

Jess pointed to an obit about a woman dying of heart failure at the age of thirty-nine. “That one.” 

Reading through the blurb, Dean shook his head and scratched it out. “No, she had cancer.” 

She peered back the obit and actually read the whole thing, and huffed at her mistake. “Don’t skim, right.” 

Dean left her to it, going up to the counter to place their order. 

Most of the obits were deaths of old age or reasonable accidents like car crashes. One or two of the obits looked weird enough to point out so she circled them and flipped the page. She x-ed out half of the next page before she landed on one that just red flagged for her. 

“What’cha got?” Dean mumbled through a mouthful of fries collapsing into the chair next to her.

“Here, check it out.” She slid the paper over. “A teenage girl drowned in the lake outside her house. It says here she was on her high school swim team. They searched the lake but couldn’t find her body.”

Chewing on a massive bite of burger, Dean read through the article and nodded approvingly. 

“Good catch.” He swallowed still chewing and elbowed her basket of burger toward her. “Eat so we can hit the road.”

Jess felt a little rush of pride and bit into her burger with a slight smile on her lips.

*

The hunt in Lake Manitoc, Jess thought, was almost worse than the wendigo. 

She didn’t know why, but for some reason she hadn’t contemplated that children weren’t exempt from the horrors of the supernatural. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the look on Lucas’s terrified face as he hyperventilated in panic while his mom nearly drowned in the bathtub. She knew she wouldn’t forget the sight of Peter Sweeny’s dead black eyes and grey waterlogged little body as he dragged Sheriff Devins below the surface.

Perhaps the only positive thing about the entire hunt was that Lucas would be able to grow up. Andrea wouldn’t lose her child and they both could have a relatively normal life. As normal as one could be when you watch your father murdered by the angry spirit of a boy he’d accidentally killed as a child. 

The days spent in Lake Manitoc were harrowing for more than just the hunt. Jess listened to Dean tell a traumatized little boy about watching his own mother die. Mary Winchester had burned up on the ceiling just like Sam and Jess couldn’t keep the image of a tiny frightened four year old watching his mother burn while his home was consumed by fire. 

The loss of the man she loved, of her Sam, was devastating and destroyed her life as she knew it, but Dean had his life destroyed twice. She was barely holding on by clawing fingernails as it was, she was terrified and she couldn’t fathom how Dean could be so brave even as a frightened child. 

She had a new respect for his dedication to saving people. He opened himself up raw to an unfamiliar child in the hope that it would save lives. 

When Dean went out for food that evening, Jess wasn’t ashamed to admit that she’d cried for the little boy that had watched his mother die.

Still, it was all worth it, the heartache and fear and despair. It was all worth it for the sound of Lucas’s voice in goodbye as they got in the Impala and drove away. 

Saving people and hunting things, Jess thought as she munched on one of the PB&Js Andrea and Lucas made them. She could get used to it.

*

It was the middle of the night and there was no way Jess was going to be able to go back to sleep. It was the nightmares again; Sam and the wendigo and Peter Sweeny. It was all horrible and it all made it impossible to go back to sleep. 

Glancing over she knew Dean had his own nightmares too, but the longer they were on the road the less they seemed to affect him. She didn’t know if it was the routine of returning to the only life he’d known, an actual lessening of the night terrors, or an unbelievable ability to compartmentalize. Either way he had started sleeping through the night most days. He was no stranger to the horrible and deadly so maybe it really didn’t faze him anymore. 

She definitely knew he still had nightmares about Sam, though, because he woke up shouting his name just like she did.

The shopping channel was universal in every motel they’d ever stayed in, so she was numbing away the images from her dreams while watching fake grinning women try to pawn knock-off jewelry onto insomniac impulse buyers. 

Jess figured she’d probably been watching it too long because that amethyst bracelet was really starting to look appealing. 

“Oh God, it’s worse than George Foremen infomercials.”

Almost jumping out of her skin, Jess glanced over at Dean as he groaned and rolled over onto his back rubbing his eyes. 

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?” She reached for the changer ready to turn it off. 

“Nah.” Dean pushed himself up until he was leaning back against the headboard. “I was due for a little insomnia anyway.”

They were quiet for a while watching the women on the tv start pushing a lovely necklace with a beautiful aquamarine pedant for just three payments of nineteen ninety-five.

Dean snorted. “Do people actually buy this crap?”

“My mom went through a phase.” Jess smiled amused with the memory. “Dad almost canceled the cable after the second Chia Pet.”

Dean gave an exaggerated shiver. “Those things give me the creeps.”

“You dig up dead bodies and light them on fire, but a clay head that grows grass gives you the creeps?” She asked incredulously.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “That shit’s just not natural.” 

Jess laughed, feeling lighter. 

They fell into companionable silence watching Dooney & Bourke bags sell for just four easy payments of thirty-nine ninety-nine. She didn’t realize she’d fallen back asleep until the sound of Dean’s cell went off at five in the morning. 

“Oh, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It’s not back is it?” 

Dean had the phone to his ear listening intently then arranging a meeting with whoever was on the other end. Jess tried to wake up and blearily hoped it wasn’t a real poltergeist because that movie still scared the ever living crap out of her.

*

She’d never been inside an airplane hangar before. It was kinda cool to see commercial airplanes just sitting around while people welded and tinkered with them. The noise was uncomfortably loud, but she had little problem hearing Jerry Panowski mention the poltergeist.

“It was really a poltergeist?” Jess asked, curious despite the fearful horror movie thrill she still got thinking about it. 

“ _Poltergeist_? I love that movie.”

“Nobody’s talking to you. Get back to work,” Jerry shouted over his shoulder at a man in dirty coveralls then turned back to them whispering. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. If it wasn’t for Dean and his dad we probably wouldn’t be alive.” 

“Yeah, it was a bitch to get rid of,” Dean added casually.

Jerry let out a chuckle with a hysterical edge to it. Apparently he hadn’t fully gotten over it yet. Perfectly understandable, Jess thought.

“How’s your dad doing, anyhow?” Jerry asked changing the subject unsubtly. 

Dean kept his face perfectly neutral and unassuming when he answered. “He’s wrapped up in a job.”

Jerry nodded not catching the deflection and continued on unawares. 

“And how’s your brother? Your dad talked a lot about him, seemed real proud.”

Jess felt her shoulders tighten as the air around the three of them got heavier. She bit her lip to keep her mouth shut. She would follow Dean’s lead. 

Dean’s face went blank for a second before he schooled it into a somewhat normal expression. “He –uh… He passed away.”

Jerry’s face fell and turned solemn. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He was sincere so Jess forgave him for bringing it up in the first place. 

They didn’t stand in awkward silence for very long. Dean brushed away the atmosphere as if his dead baby brother hadn’t just come up in conversation with an almost complete stranger. 

“So, what have you got to show us?”

Jerry was all business once again. “Come on, we’ll go to my office.”

It was quieter there and they didn’t have to raise their voices to talk. Jess seated herself in the chair next to Dean curious about what would cause Jerry to call up a monster hunter. 

“One of our planes went down, United Britannia flight 2485,” Jerry told them pulling out a computer disc in a plastic case. “I got ahold of the cockpit voice recorder and it sounded like it was up your alley.”

He popped the disc in his computer. “Here, listen to this.”

It was one of the eeriest things she’d ever heard. The static in the background didn’t sound natural and the loud whooshing scream at the end sent a shiver up her spine. 

“They’re saying it was mechanical failure. Only seven people survived. One of them was the pilot, Chuck Lambert. He’s a friend. He’s pretty broken up about it. Thinks it’s his fault.”

“But you don’t.” From Dean’s confident expression Jess could tell this was a case. She had no idea what could bring down an entire plane, but she trusted Dean’s instincts and his expertise. He thought it was a case, so she believed it was a case.

Jerry shook his head agreeing with Dean. “No, I don’t.”

“Alright.” Dean straightened up in his seat and snapped his fingers in anticipation. “What can you give us on it?”

“I can get you the passenger manifests, the flight plan, and make a copy of the recording for you,” Jerry said already typing at his computer and pulling out a blank disc from his desk drawer. 

“Can we get a list of the survivors?” Jess cut in for the first time. She was the rookie in this job and was still feeling her way through what could be relevant and what couldn’t, but Dean hadn’t disregarded any of her contributions yet, so she figured it was safe to ask.

“Sure.” Jerry nodded and the printer behind him started spitting out paper. 

Dean gave Jess a flicker of an approving grin before turning back to Jerry.

“Awesome. Can you get us in to see the wreckage?”

“Sorry, guys.” Jerry frowned handing over the information they’d asked for. “The NTSB has it on lock down. I don’t have that kind of clearance, there’s no way I can get you in.”

Jess was about to deflate in disappointment then Dean just shrugged unconcerned and stood as he pocketed the papers and disc. 

“No problem.”

An hour and a half later, Jess was staring down at her printer warm ID for the freaking Homeland Security. 

“We’re going to get caught,” she muttered. “Do you think they let you shampoo your hair in Gitmo?”

Dean scoffed and pulled away from the curb. “It’ll be fine. People haven’t seen it a thousand times. No one’s gonna look for fakes.”

She was highly skeptical of that. “I’m pretty sure this is a felony, Dean.”

“Sure, well.” He shrugged. “It won’t be the last felony you commit in this job. Illegal kinda comes with the territory.”

Jess whined even as she slipped the ID in the leather folder Dean handed her. “My mother won’t ever forgive me if I get sent to prison.”

“You won’t get sent to prison,” he assured her. “And even if you do it won’t be that bad. I hear orange is the new black.” 

Jess groaned. “I look terrible in orange.”

At least now she knew why Dean had made her buy that really awful off the rack pants suit. There was no way anyone would believe a Homeland Security agent would wear a t-shirt with a grinning Elmo on it.

Beyond all reason, they actually made it past the security officers and into the warehouse. Of course that might have had something to with the fact that both officers were too preoccupied with surreptitiously eyeing Jess’s cleavage to comment on their suspiciously young age. 

“You think if I showed a little cleavage that would work for me, too?”

Jess scowled, punching Dean in the arm. 

“Ow!” He pouted then pulled out what looked like a cannibalized Walkman.

“What is that?” Jess snatched it from his hands and turned it over curiously. 

Dean snatched it back with a huff and flipped a switched. The little row of lights on top blinked on. 

“It’s an EMF reader,” he explained and started slowly waving it over bits and pieces of burnt twisted wreckage. 

“You made that?” It looked homemade. Wires were exposed and it hummed loudly. 

“Yep,” Dean replied absently, watching the lights on the meter. 

“That’s so cool.” She couldn’t imagine trying to take apart a Walkman and turning into an electromagnetic field meter. That took some skill. 

He paused and looked at her like he was surprised. “It isn’t that hard. I could teach you if you want,” he offered shrugging self-consciously.

Jess grinned. “Totally.”

He grinned back and continued to scanning for EMF.

Looking around at the remains of flight 2485 was eerie and disturbing. A hundred people died on that plane and here were its remains laid out in all their twisted charred glory. She didn’t stray too far from Dean. 

They walked along what used to be the plane’s wing until they got to the fuselage. She didn’t think it could get any creepier until the EMF reader started squealing and the lights all lit up red. 

“That’s not good, right?”

“Nope.” Dean hovered the meter over the twisted handle of what used to be the emergency exit door for a second. Then he turned it off and slipped it back in his pocket. 

Peering closer, Dean pulled out his knife and scraped something grainy and yellow off the handle. 

“What’s that?”

“No clue.” He lifted a half empty bag of skittles out of his pocket, tossed the rest into his mouth then scraped off more of the yellow stuff into the bag. “But we’re going to find out.”

Jess opened her mouth to ask something else, but didn’t get a chance. The sound of pounding footsteps outside had Dean shoving her toward the exit next to the bay doors. 

“Run.”

She was doing okay, even if she was severely regretting wearing professional looking kitten heels (never again) until they ran right into a ten foot chain-link fence topped with barbed wire.

“Fuck!” Jess skidded to a halt heart pounding as she got ready to start panicking. 

“Jess!” 

Snapping around to look at Dean, she saw him toss his suitcoat up to lay messily over the barbed wire then crouch with his hands cupped together. 

“Give you a boost.” He jerked his head hurriedly toward the fence. “Come on. Hurry!”

“I’m gonna break my frickin’ neck!” She protested shrilly. 

“Jessica, now!” He snapped.

She yelped at the sharp command and put her foot in his hands. Her other foot was barely off the ground before he was shoving her upward. She scrambled clumsily over the top of the fence and dropped ungracefully to the ground. Pain lanced up her legs with the impact. Dean landed not a second behind her snatching his jacket off the top of the fence on the way down.

He didn’t give her time to adjust just grabbed her arm and yanked her into running again. 

Jess’s breathing didn’t start to slow down until they were already driving well away from the warehouse. Her feet hurt and she was pretty sure she already had a couple of blisters. 

“Holy shit, we just ran from the cops.”

“Actually I think they were Homeland Security,” he corrected with a sharp grin. 

“Shit,” Jess breathed. “We really could have gone to Gitmo.”

Dean just threw his head back and laughed. 

Tommy Collins had it right down in that mine. Dean was fucking crazy.

*

They were back in their motel room and back in their jeans and t-shirts. Jess was barefoot curled up in a chair pulled up to the kitchenette table. 

Dean just got off the phone with Jerry and sat in the chair next to her. “So, Jerry can’t take a look at the powder until later today.”

“What do we do while we wait?” 

Jess had the cockpit recording cued up on the laptop and had been playing around with it while Dean was on the phone. She was getting nowhere. Nothing popped out if she sped it up, slowed it down, played it backwards. At least nothing that was any creepier than it was before. 

“Go through the info,” Dean answered nodding toward the laptop. “Got anything?”

“No,” Jess replied, disgruntled. “I’ve tried all I can think of, but all I get is creepy static and panicking pilots.” 

“Here.” He leaned over and pulled the laptop closer clicking around and changing settings on the program. “Let’s take out the static, maybe there’s some EVP.”

“EVP?”

“Electronic Voice Phenomenon,” Dean explained. “Sometimes electronics can pick up things we can’t hear. Cell phones, voice recorders, radios, stuff like that.”

“You think the static is actually whatever this is talking.” Jess scooted closer trying to see what settings he changed in case she needed to do this in the future. 

“Yeah.” He clicked play and sat back.

It seemed that the recording could in fact get creepier. 

“ _No survivors_.” The voice was raspy and high pitched and definitely unnatural. 

“Okay, so that’s disturbing.” Jess shivered and leaned away from the laptop.

“Disturbing and also wrong. There were seven survivors.” Dean frowned then grabbed the list of survivors and read through the names. 

“It looks like we’re gonna have to talk to some of those survivors.” 

“Which ones?” Jess asked, curiously. Seven people was kind of a lot to interview in one day. 

Dean handed her the list and tapped one name. 

“Max Jaffe,” she read. “Why are we talking to him?”

“’Cause he checked himself into a mental hospital,” Dean said standing up and grabbing his jacket getting ready to go. “It’s a good bet that if any one saw anything it was him.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Jess hurriedly stood up and started yanking on some socks and her running shoes. No more kitten heels for her.

*

Max Jaffe walked with a cane and really didn’t seem like the kind of guy that needed to be in a mental hospital. Then again, Jess didn’t seem like the kind of girl that would pose as a Homeland Security agent. 

“I already talked to Homeland Security,” Max said with a slight frown as he lowered himself into a picnic table chair. 

“Some new information came up and we just have a few more questions we need to ask.” Dean gave him an unassuming smile meant to reassure. 

Max eyed them and Jess could tell he was dubious when his eyes slide over Dean’s leather jacket and her Elmo t-shirt. 

“Please, it would really help with our investigation if you would talk with us again,” Jess cut in before he could work up from just dubious to downright suspicious. 

Jess leaned toward him, placed a gentle hand over his and gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know this must be hard for you, but it really will help.” 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dean staring at her with raised eyebrows. She ignored him. He’d already mentioned that her cleavage helped them get into the NTSB. A little “feminine wiles” should have no problem getting a skittish trauma survivor to open up. 

Plus he was a twenty-something man that probably hadn’t seen a woman in a while that wasn’t a patient, nurse, or his mother. 

Max’s eyes flicked from her sympathetic gaze to the v-neck of her snug t-shirt. He swallowed then looked back up again. 

“Yeah, okay. What do you want to ask?”

Bingo. Jess suppressed a grin and glanced at Dean with a nod.

He’d wiped his expression clear of displeasure by the time they’d both looked toward him. 

“Before you crashed, was there anything weird about the plane?”

“Weird.” Max frowned. “Weird how?”

Dean shrugged. “Strange lights, weird sounds. Voices maybe.”

“Uh, no. Nothing like that.” 

Leaning forward, Dean looked at Max intently. “Mr. Jaffe, you checked yourself in here. Can I ask why?”

Scoffing, Max said, “I just survived a plane crash. I was a little stressed.” 

“Sure,” Dean waved that off. Max scowled. “And that’s what terrified you? That’s what you’re afraid of?”

Max shifted nervously. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“I think you did see something up there,” Dean persisted. “And we need to know what.”

“I was delusional.” Max’s eyes darted around not meeting either of their gazes. “I was just seeing things.”

Dean scoffed and leaned back throwing a mocking look toward Jess. “He was just seeing things.” 

“Dean.” Jess scowled at him then placed her hand over Max’s again. “It’s okay, Mr. Jaffe. It’s alright, you can tell us.”

He was quiet for a moment biting his lip before he finally spoke. “I saw- there was this man,” he said haltingly. “He had these black eyes. And I saw- I thought I saw him open the emergency exit.” 

Jess sucked in a breath before she could stop herself and darted a look toward Dean. 

“But that’s impossible, right? I looked it up. There’s like two tons of pressure on that door.” He sounded like he was still trying to convince himself.

Dean met Jess’s eyes gravely then turned back to Max.

“Did he flicker? Disappear and reappear? Something like that?”

Max snorted at him incredulously. “What, are you nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

*

“Okay, so the passenger sitting in front of Max Jaffe was George Phelps.” Jess read from the passenger seating chart. They pulled up to George Phelps home about to talk to his widow. 

“There is no way he opened the emergency door midflight,” Dean said as they walked up the front steps. “Even yoked up on PCP or something he wouldn’t have the strength to do that.”

“He’s not human then,” Jess surmised. “What kind of creature would have the strength to force two tons of pressurized door open?”

Dean cocked his head. “Got me, but this doesn’t really look like a creatures lair, does it?”

Looking up at the two story house with a welcome mat and flowerbeds, she had to agree. She didn’t think many monsters cared about having a manicured lawn.

Mrs. Phelps was sad and obviously still really broken up about her husband’s death. 

“He didn’t even like flying.” She sniffled into a tissue. “He was terrified.”

Dean looked a little uncomfortable with the crying woman, but Jess didn’t think he let it show enough for her to notice. “You said your husband was a dentist.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “He was flying home from a convention in Denver.”

“How long were you married?” Jess asked. She was doggedly trying not to think about how similar she was to being a widow. She couldn’t start down that road or she would probably start crying too. That probably wasn’t very conducive to getting information out of Mrs. Phelps.

“Thirteen years,” she said with a longing look at the photo in her hands. 

One look at Dean’s face and Jess knew that the chances of George Phelps being the main cause of the plane crash were pretty slim. 

“Mrs. Phelps,” Dean brought her attention back to the conversation. “Did you ever notice anything strange or out of the ordinary about your husband?”

She frowned bewildered. “He had acid reflux. If that’s what you mean.”

Pretty sure it wasn’t. They wrapped the interview up quickly after that. 

“So, George Phelps isn’t a monster,” Jess guessed.

“A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer doesn’t exactly scream evil personified,” Dean agreed as they turned toward the hangar to meet up with Jerry. 

“What’s going on then?” she asked. “If he isn’t a monster or a ghost or whatever, how did he open the door and why would his eyes turn black?”

“All very good questions.” 

When they settled into Jerry’s office and he had their sample of yellow dust under a microscope things started to go downhill. 

“This stuff is covered in sulfur,” Jerry murmured curiously as he lifted his face away from the microscope. 

Dean tensed next to Jess and she tensed in response. That’s not a good sign. 

“Are you sure?” he demanded. 

“Yeah,” Jerry nodded. “Here take a look.”

Dean got up and peered through the eyepiece. When he looked back up his expression was grim. 

There was a loud clatter outside and Jerry rushed out the door to deal whatever the problem was. 

Jess stood up and moved to stand next to Dean.

“What are you thinking?”

“There aren’t a lot of things that leave sulfur behind,” he said. “The only one that comes to mind is demonic possession.”

Her belly quivered in an unsettling way and she felt cold across the back of her neck. “Demonic possession like _The Exorcist_ demonic passion?”

“Close enough,” Dean muttered and pulled out the information Jerry gave them on the flight. “It says the plane went down exactly forty minutes in.”

“And that’s bad. Why is that bad?” Jess bit her lip. 

“Biblical numerology,” he explained gravely. “Noah’s ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death.”

*

Dean was tense and Jess was having a really hard time trying to ignore it. It wouldn’t help either of them if she let his grave attitude freak her out. And she was so very close to freaking out. 

Intellectually it made sense that if she stuck with Dean hunting monsters eventually they’d run across something like demons. Intellectually wasn’t reality and visions of bloodied crucifixes and pea soup vomit were running on a loop in her head. 

You would think that having spent a lifetime hunting demons wouldn’t be so very out of the norm, but the way Dean was pacing and frowning told a different story. He was fingering his phone in agitation like he was just itching to make a phone call. 

“So, demons,” Jess drawled trying to distract herself with actually working the case. She’d discovered in the weeks on the road that by concentrating on the actual research and mystery of the hunts she was able to compartmentalize enough to not completely freeze up. 

“What do we know about demons?”

“Tell you the truth, not much.” Dean stopped pacing and finally came and sat at the table with her. “This isn’t our usual gig. Demonic possession really isn’t that common.”

He grabbed his dad’s journal and started flipping through it. “I really wish Dad was here. He’d know what to do more than I do.”

Jess bit her lip and kept her peace. They’d gotten nowhere trying to find John and she’d started to have rather uncharitable thoughts about the man. She knew Dean had called him multiple times since they’d left Stanford, and she knew that he hadn’t picked up yet.

“What do we know about demons?” she asked again. “’Cause I got nothing but a lot of traumatizing memories of puking on my high school boyfriend the first time I saw _The Exorcist_.”

Dean looked amused at that and finally some of the nervous tension drained out of him. He was back to business and Jess couldn’t have been more relieved. 

“Every culture and every religion has its own lore about demons. And each one has attributed different acts of violence to demons.” 

“Is it a normal thing for demons to take down planes though?” Jess kinda hoped not or else she wasn’t ever flying again. 

“I don’t know.” Dean huffed annoyed. “I’ve never had to actually hunt one before. I’m kinda in the dark here.”

Yeah, not comforting that the hunting expert didn’t know how to hunt the thing they were hunting. Still, Jess was getting pretty good at research and since they actually knew what they were hunting they had a place to start. 

“So, research?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Research.”

To say there was an overabundance of crap about demons on the internet was an understatement. And almost all of it was actually crap. It’d taken her twenty minutes just to get past the sci-fi fantasy fan sites. Then there was a lot of religious stuff about hell and damnation. On topic but not helpful. 

It was in the obscure sites where she needed to use the translation program that she finally got down to the stuff that was even halfway relevant. 

“Dean.” 

He glanced up from nearly staring a hole into a page of his dad’s journal. 

“It says here that in certain cultures certain disasters are often attributed to demons. Earthquakes, volcanos, plagues, stuff like that, even some supposed manmade catastrophes.” 

Dean looked skeptical. “Yeah, but plane crashes?”

Jess shrugged. “You said the sulfur meant demonic possession and there’s precedence for it.” She gestured to the page open on the laptop and Dean leaned over to skim an article on a Japanese fishing vessel where the remaining crew swore it was sunk by a demon.

“And a demon possessing a passenger would account for the black eyes and superhuman strength,” Jess pressed. 

“Great,” he drawled sarcastically and rubbed a hand down his face. “So we have a demon that’s evolved with the times and figured out how to ramp up the casualties. That’s just perfect.” 

“At least we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean acknowledged. “Now we just have to-”

The sound of Dean’s phone ringing where it sat on the table interrupting whatever he was going to say. 

Jess snagged John’s journal from under Dean’s hands while he was distracted and started flipping through it. It had been implied, when Dean was bemoaning the absence of his father that John had actually dealt with a case of demonic possession before. Chances were if he had there would definitely be an entry about it. 

After all, if a hunter didn’t record their hunts, they would soon become a dead hunter and as far as she knew John Winchester wasn’t in fact a dead hunter just yet. 

Maybe it was coincidence or serendipity, but when Jess finally turned to the section of the journal marked by the rosary beads dangling out of it she found an entry on an electrician from Omaha that had been possessed. And next to the case notes was a messily copied Latin exorcism.

“Aha!” She slapped the page triumphantly and turned to grin at Dean. 

The look on his face quickly wiped her excitement away.

“That was Jerry,” he said, slipping his phone in his pocket and grabbing his jacket off the foot of his bed. “The pilot, Chuck Lambert, just died in a plane crash outside of Nazareth.” 

Jess snapped the laptop closed and stumbled to grab her own jacket shoving Sam’s gun back in its holster under her arm.

“Should we be worried it’s outside of a town called Nazareth?” she asked taking the sport bottle of holy water Dean tossed her and shoving it in her inside jacket pocket. 

“Nah,” Dean answered with a crooked smirk. “Pretty sure the irony is just a bonus.” 

“Great,” Jess snorted. “A demon with a sense of humor.” 

“Hey, it takes all kinds.” 

They jumped in the Impala and sped the whole way there.

*

They took a sample of yellow dust back to Jerry -this time in a real plastic baggy- and got some unsurprising but still bad news. 

“Lemme guess,” Dean drawled. “Sulfur.”

“Yep.” Jerry looked up from the microscope. “I take it that’s bad.”

“Yeah. No offense but if this demon was just after Chuck that would be good news but…”

Jess felt a chill run up her spine again. Maybe she’d eventually shake that fear response, but she highly doubted it. “The cockpit recorder said ‘no survivors’.”

“It’s going after the survivors.” Dean nodded.

Jerry looked pale. He swallowed thickly. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, for one thing,” Dean started, looking at Jess, determined. “We’re gonna have to make sure none of the other survivors get on a plane anytime soon.” 

“How are we going to do that?”

Turns out pretending to be a rep from United Britannia Airlines was actually disturbingly easy. 

“It’s that perky voice,” Dean commented with a grin. “People just like a good phone voice.”

“Whatever.” Jess rolled her eyes and started to dial the next number while Dean drove. 

The line was picked up and a woman answered the phone. 

“Hi, is this Amanda Walker?” Jess put on her best customer service voice. “I’m Trish with United Britannia Airlines and we’d like to- what?”

Straightening her seat on, Jess saw Dean glance over on alert.

“Could you please tell me what flight your sister is on? We’d love to talk with her before she takes off.” 

Jess snapped her fingers for a pen. One was handed over and she quickly jotted down the flight number and departure time. There was no way they were going to get there in time.

“Amanda’s flying out of Indianapolis at 8 p.m..”

“Crap.” Dean turned back to the road and Jess was jerked back in her seat as the car accelerated.

“We’re not going to be able to get there in time, Dean.” She grabbed the door handle to steady herself. 

“We will if I’m driving.” He shifted gears and the car growled. 

“It’s five hours! What are you going to do? Floor it the whole way?”

He grinned cheekily at her taking his eyes off the road for a second. “Just start calling her cell. Try to keep her off the plane.”

“Watch the road!” Snatching up the phone from the seat next to her she started dialing. Five rings and it rolled to voice mail. 

Jess left a marginally professional message and hit redial. Two more voice messages later, she gave up and tossed the phone down again. 

“She’s not answering. How long do you think it’ll take us to get there?”

Dean flicked his eyes to the dashboard clock then the speedometer. “Two and a half hours give or take.” 

Jess stared at him wide eyed. “How fast are you even going?”

“You don’t want to know.” 

She really wanted to smack that cheeky grin of his face. She also didn’t want to die in a horrible fiery car crash so she just white knuckled the door handle and hoped they made it there in one piece.

*

It’s been several years since she’d been in an airport and security protocols definitely hadn’t lessened since then. Unfortunately that meant leaving Sam’s gun in the trunk. She didn’t realize she’d gotten so used to the feeling of protection it gave her until she felt naked without it. 

“Damn it!” Dean grumbled as they ran through the parking lot. “I feel naked.” 

Jess knew exactly how he felt. 

“There’s forty minutes until the plane should start boarding so she should still be in the terminal.” Jess slid to a stop under the electronic flight schedule board. 

Glancing around, Dean spotted the inner airport phone line. “There.” They jogged to the phone and before she could stop him Dean snatched it up and was already getting switched over to flight 424’s terminal. 

“Dean!” she hissed trying to grab the phone from him. “Let me talk to her!” 

He batted her hands away. “Stop it! I know what I’m doing.”

Lunging she got a grip on the phone. “You can’t just-”

Dean elbowed her in the chest none too gently knocking some of the air out of her. “Hello, is this Amanda Walker?” 

Scowling and regaining her breath, Jess punched him in the arm hard enough to rock him back a step. 

“This is Doctor Hetfield at St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here.”

Jess didn’t even try to resist smacking her forehead. This was going to end badly. 

Regardless of the fact that the phone conversation did in fact end unfavorably, Jess couldn’t help being tiny bit impressed that Dean had switched cover stories mid conversation with barely a pause. Con-artistry aside they still had to keep Amanda from getting on the plane. Or at least the plane from getting off the runway. 

“Maybe we could stage a security incident?” Dean suggested.

“And get arrested for terrorism?” Jess protested shrilly. “No.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Biting her lip, Jess looked around for inspiration. Her eyes caught on the ticket purchase counter. 

“Go get some luggage,” she ordered Dean and started to jog toward the ticket counter. “I’ll get the tickets and meet you in-”

“Whoa. Wait-what?” Dean snatched her arm and tugged her back. 

“What? Dean, come on. We don’t have a lot of time.” 

“Yeah, but-” his gaze darted around shiftily. “I-I can’t get on a plane.”

“Why not?” she demanded then she got a good look at his face. “Wait, you’re not on the no fly list are you?”

“What? No!” He let go of her arm and rubbed his shaky palms on his thighs. “I’m just not… getting on a plane.”

It took a second, but finally Jess put the clues together. She figured it wasn’t really her fault it took her so long since she’d never actually seen Dean nervous or scared before. 

“You’re afraid of flying, aren’t you?” 

“Why do you think I drive everywhere?” he snapped. 

“Dean, that plane is going to crash,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low. It would not be good if someone called security on them. Talking about a possible plane crash then the plane actually crashing was like a one-way ticket to Gitmo. She was too pretty to go to Gitmo. 

“Exactly!” He threw his hands up exasperated, but Jess didn’t miss the fine tremble in them. 

Stepping close she wrapped a hand around his arm trying to be comforting. “Dean, I can’t do this by myself. A lot of people are going to die if we don’t get on that plane.”

He was chewing on his lip, eyes darting between hers reluctantly.

“Please, Dean. They need you on that plane. I need you on that plane, because there is no way I’m going to be able to do an exorcism by myself and I am not letting more people die.”

He deflated with a heavy sigh. “Fuck. Why did you have to go and become an actual hunter on me?”

She grinned, feeling a little proud. “I had a good teacher.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook her hand off his arm and turned toward the doors. “Just get the damn tickets. I’ll scrounge up some non-terroristy stuff out of the trunk.”

Handing over her check card was painful when Jess realized that she wasn’t going to have any money left in it pretty soon. Apparently the life of a hunter was an expensive one. She had a fleeting thought to how Dean was paying for all their food and motel rooms, but pushed it away in favor of finally freaking out about the rest of the hunt. 

She didn’t think finding a demon and performing a full on exorcism on a plane full of people was going to be easy. The chance of death was only surpassed by the chance of being arrested. Yeah, this was going to be a cake walk. 

Getting through security went pretty smoothly despite Dean sweating nervously and generally acting all kinds of sketchy. Luckily the guy trying to wand Dean was placated with a flirty grin and an explanation of, “Nervous flyer.”

True enough. She was really starting to get the hang of this lying with the truth thing. 

Their seats were in the middle of the plane and Jess didn’t know if that was strategically good or bad. She didn’t really get a chance to ask Dean because the moment they took off he had her hand in a vice grip while humming heavy metal under his breath. 

“Dean,” she squeezed his hand back and gave him a comforting smile when he looked at her. “Dean, it’s gonna be okay. Pretty much the only thing that’s gonna bring this plane down is the demon. And we knew how to take care of that.” 

He took a couple deep breaths before he loosened his grip on her hand. “Yeah, okay. I’m good.” 

She discreetly flexed her fingers to get the circulation back. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and pulled out John’s journal. “Show me the exorcism you found.” 

“This is it.” She pointed to the Latin verses written out in John’s blocky handwriting. “It’s two parts. First part makes the demon manifest outside the host, the second sends it back to Hell.” 

“Okay. That doesn’t sound too hard.” 

“Um…” Jess fidgeted under Dean’s look. “Making the demon manifest makes it more powerful.” 

He cursed under his breath and snapped the journal closed. “Perfect.” 

Jess spotted a stewardess coming down the aisle and waved her down. Leaning across Dean, Jess gave the stewardess an unassuming smile. 

“Excuse me, are you Amanda?”

She shook her head and smiled blandly. “No, I’m not.” 

“Oh, so sorry. My mistake.” 

They waited until the stewardess was distracted with another passenger. Turning around Dean spotted the second Stewardess stacking cups in the back. 

“Okay, that must be Amanda. I’ll go talk to her and-” 

“Yeah, no.” Jess yanked on his arm making him drop back down in his seat. “Last time you tried talking to Amanda she agreed to talk to her shitty ex and still got on the possessed plane. I’m talking to her.” 

Dean grumbled but let her scoot past him. She was almost in the aisle when he snagged her jacket sleeve. “Wait, here take this. It’ll burn her if she’s a demon.”

Jess shoved the bottle of holy water away. “Are you nuts?” she hissed. “What am I supposed to do if she starts hissing and burning? No, she’ll flinch at the name of God. It’s subtler.” 

Dean opened his mouth and Jess cut him off, “In Latin, I know.” 

Pursing his lips unhappily he kept ahold of her jacket for a moment as he looked up at her seriously. “Be careful.” 

She gave him a smile and an affectionate roll of her eyes. “I’ll try.” 

As she walked down the aisle toward Amanda the plane gave a turbulent shake and she could have sworn she heard Dean whimper. 

Amanda was shorter than Jess by a few inches and was pretty and cheery. A little too cheery for someone who had survived a plane crash if you asked Jess. 

“Can I help you?”

Jess gave her a smile and shook her head. “Just had a long day. I’m a little restless.” 

“Ah, I understand completely.” Amanda stacked a few more cups and started fiddling with the cocktail napkins. “I’m a little restless myself.” 

“Really? I thought you’d be pretty used to being in the air.”

“Not anymore.” Amanda’s expression flickered and she turned her gaze down to her hands. 

“What happened?” Jess pressed, knowing full well what happened but still needing Amanda to keep talking. 

“I was in a-,” she cut off and swallowed. “It’s just hard to talk about.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jess murmured sympathetically. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“Oh, no. You didn’t,” Amanda assured her with a smile.

“So you’re happy being a stewardess?” It was getting a little harder to move the conversation along, but Jess thought she was doing pretty good. 

“Yeah.” Amanda grinned and Jess could tell she meant it. “I don’t want to let being scared keep me from doing what I love.”

Shit, she was being genuine. Jess was pretty sure she wasn’t possessed, but it was always better to check. 

“Christo, you’re well adjusted.” Okay so it wasn’t the subtlest, but it did the job. 

Amanda chuckled at that even though Jess could tell she was a little confused by the odd pronunciation. “Well, I try.” She shrugged. 

Not a flinch or a black eye to be seen. Jess lingered long enough to ask for a Sprite to keep from raising suspicion. When she made it back to Dean she flopped down in her seat and took a long gulp of her soda. 

“No demon?”

Jess shook her head and offered him her soda. “Nope. She’s probably one of the most mentally healthy trauma victims in history.” 

Dean took a sip and made a face at the sugary taste handing it back to her. “It’s somewhere on this plane, we just have to find it.”

“What’s the plan?”

Dean reached into his jacket and passed over his Walkman EMF meter. “Walk this aisle and scan as you go. I’ll hit the other one and mutter Christo under my breath like a crazy person.” 

Unwinding the earbuds, Jess stuck them in her ears and grinned at him. “You mean you’re not a crazy person?”

“Shad up,” he grouched at her and stood up into the aisle. 

Walking up and down the plane waving a busted up Walkman at people was not a good way to stay inconspicuous. Her face was getting tired from all the “nothing to see here, I’m completely harmless” smiling she was having to do. 

She was also pretty sure the goth chick with the piercings was checking out her ass.

She was nearing the end of her aisle and unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, none of the passengers made the EMF screech. That didn’t keep her from being on high alert the entire time. She and Dean were almost one hundred percent certain there was a demon on the plane and it was going to drive said plane into the ground in just under fifteen minutes. Jess hoped a time constraint wasn’t the norm on hunts ‘cause this shit just made an already stressful situation that much worse. 

A heavy hand came down on her shoulder and she yelped. Several of the passengers turned around and glared. Her heart was trying not to jump out of her throat as she glared at Dean behind her. 

“Jesus, Dean! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.” He held his hands up apologetically then nodded at the EMF. “Anything?”

She was about to respond when the bathroom door in front of them opened and the EMF lit up squealing. 

The man was dressed like a pilot and was smiling friendly at the stewardess as he past. All of Jess’s instincts were telling her there was something very wrong with that man. 

Dean was warm and solid pressed up against her shoulder and she could feel the way his body stilled, his muscles tensed in readiness. She could feel his voice rumble in his chest when he muttered, “Christo,” under his breath. 

The pilot froze in the act of opening the cockpit door, rolled his shoulders, and glanced behind him. He looked right at them. His eyes were completely and totally black.

The door closed locking after him. 

With a shuddering breath, Jess muttered, “Fuck.” 

Dean took her by the arm and turned them both to the back of the plan. “Yeah, that’s definitely going to put a crimp in our plans.”

“Oh, you mean the plans that suddenly involve getting an airplane pilot out from behind the steel reinforced cockpit doors so we can hold him down and exorcize him in a plane full of people while flying three thousand feet in the air?” she whispered a little hysterically. “That’s a big-ass crimp, Dean.”

“I said it was a crimp, didn’t I?” He shoved his way past a businessman trying to get into the overhead bin pulling Jess quickly behind him. “Come on. We gotta find Amanda.”

“She’s isn’t going to believe us.” 

Dean threw her a look over his shoulder. “You’d be surprised.” 

Amanda was just where Jess had left her. She’d done a round with the refreshments cart and was once again reloading it with cups and mini bottles of alcohol. Jess really wanted to chug one of the little vodka bottles, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea considering the circumstances. 

Looking up as they pulled the curtain shut behind them Amanda smiled uncertainly. 

“Hey, did you need something?”

Dean shoved at Jess’s shoulder.

Stepping up, Jess had a split second to come up with something that would get her to help them. 

“The copilot’s possessed and we need you to get him back here so we can exorcize him and keep the plane from crashing.”

The stunned silence was uncomfortable. Dean face-palmed and pushed her out of the way. 

“Look, Amanda we don’t have time for the truth is out there speech, but you know that something isn’t right here. We know you were on flight 2485.”

“What?” Amanda’s eyes widened and she looked between them like they were crazy. Jess didn’t hold it against her, it was a reasonable assumption. 

“We spoke to the other passengers and something brought that plane down and it wasn’t mechanical failure. And Chuck Lambert, the pilot, he died in a plane crash.” Dean looked her in the eyes the entire time he was talking and if Jess had been on the other end of that intensity she would have had a hard trying to deny what he was saying.

“I’m sorry,” Amanda stuttered trying to back away from him. “I can’t help you. I have to get back to-”

They were losing her. Dean was scaring her. Grabbing his arm Jess yanked him back. 

“Dean, that’s not helping.”

“We have less than twelve minutes, Jess. What do you want me to do?” he demanded frowning. “I can’t sugar coat it for her.”

“You can’t glare at her into listening either.” She turned to Amanda and tried to seem less intimidating. She wasn’t sure she succeeded, but at least Amanda didn’t look she wanted to start screaming for help. 

“We’re sorry to have to do this, but Amanda we need your help,” Jess said evenly, attempting to calm the situation down. “You know something wasn’t right with 2485. You know that it wasn’t mechanical failure and you’re the only one that can help us keep this plane from going down too.”

Amanda was chewing on her lip nervously, her mind almost visibly racing as she tried to reconcile what they were saying. Finally she sucked in a breath. “There was a man.” She swallowed the memory obviously disturbing her. “His eyes were, I could have sworn, they were black.” 

“That’s it.” Dean drew her attention. “That’s exactly it.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” she demanded shoving past her fear. 

“You need to get the copilot back here.” Jess placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Anything you can do, say whatever you have to, we just need to get him back here.”

“But I could lose my-”

Jess cut her off. “If you don’t we’ll all die.” 

That seemed to finally shock her enough not to protest anymore. 

They watched her knock on the cockpit door then Dean was shoving John’s journal and a bottle of holy water in Jess’s hands before pulling a roll of duct tape out of his jacket pocket. How he got that past security she didn’t know. 

“You got the exorcism?”

Jess met his gaze and nodded. “Yeah. Practiced on the drive.” 

“Good.” He turned back and there was a moment of tense stillness then Dean was punching the pilot into the floor. 

Amanda almost screamed, but Jess grabbed her and yanked her away from the tussle just in time for her to avoid a foot to the knee. 

“What’s he doing?” She yelped as Jess shoved Amanda behind her. 

“We have to exorcize him.” 

Dean had the pilot’s mouth taped shut and was straddling him pinning his arms to his chest. “Jess!”

Darting forward, Jess squirted the holy water on the pilot and suddenly the whole exorcizing the possessed thing got a whole lot more real. 

“Oh my God!” Amanda gasped as the steam rose from the possessed pilot’s skin. 

“Holy crap!” Jess gasped. “That really burns them!” 

Dean lost his grip and got punched in the mouth. “Yeah! It really works. Now start the damn exorcism, Jess!”

Oh right. They were actually in the middle of a life or death situation. How could she have forgotten? 

Turning, Jess grabbed Amanda’s shoulder. “Stand out there and don’t let anyone in.” 

“But-but-”

“Please, Amanda!” 

Amanda glanced back at the steaming flailing copilot and nodded jerkily. “Okay, okay.” 

Jess didn’t wait for her to shut the curtain before she started chanting. 

“Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino-”

Dean was having trouble holding him down and Jess remembered distantly over the flow of the chanting that possessed George Phelps had enough strength to open an emergency door. 

The demon suddenly broke free. It shoved Dean off its chest tossing him into Jess. Dean was nearly a good two hundred pounds of pure muscle and Jess hit the ground hard under his bulk. It was a small miracle she didn’t lose her grip on the journal. 

Dean rolled off her and tackled the pilot again. “Keep reading!” 

Jess gasped out the next words of exorcism while trying to get the breath back into her. Getting to her knees Jess had her eyes glued on the page as she scrambled for the discarded water bottle and squirted the demon over Dean’s shoulder. 

Shrieking, it bucked and ripped off the duct tape with a freed hand. It kicked out catching Jess in the stomach and grabbed Dean by the neck yanking him closer. 

“I know what happened to your brother!”   
Dean froze wide eyed. 

“He must have died screaming! Even now he’s burning!”

Jess didn’t know what possessed her, pun not intended, but she dropped the book, surged past Dean, and punched the evil bastard in its black eyed grinning face. 

“Shut the hell up you evil motherfucker!” 

She punched him again splitting her knuckles on his unnaturally hard cheek and was rearing back for another when Dean grabbed her wrist and jerked her back. 

“Read it, Jessica!”

Snatching the journal back up, Jess chanted the last line of the first verse and suddenly black smoke was pouring out of the pilot’s mouth and shoving itself though the air vent. 

There was a pause then the plane dipped and Jess went flying. She hit the refreshment cart crashing to the floor on top of it. Dean caught her with a boot heel in the tumble as he slid past her. The burst of pain made her yelp but the sound was lost in the screaming terror of the rest of the passengers as the plane took a sharp nose dive. 

The plane jerked and Jess almost tumbled out into the cabin but Dean’s hand snapped out and grabbed a fistful of her clothing. She was clotheslined by the collar of her Calvin and Hobbs t-shirt and bungeed back into Dean’s chest by her bra. He wrapped his arm around her waist and held on tight. 

“Finish it!” he shouted in her ear as the plane bucked and shuddered threatening to toss them around. The only thing keeping them in place was Dean’s death grip on the emergency door handle and his death grip on her. 

“Jessica!” he bellowed over the sound of screaming civilians again. “Finish it!”

It was then she realized that, miracle of miracles, she’d kept ahold of the journal. When she’d been thrown with the plane’s first shudder she’d wrapped her arms around it pressing it to her chest so hard she was going to have binder ring bruises. 

It was hard to release her hold on the journal enough to read. The flashes of lightning through the plane windows and the flickering of cabin lights didn’t help her any, but somehow she was able to start reading again. She could barely hear her own voice, her heart was pounding so hard that it was hard to breathe, and the tightness of Dean’s arm around her was verging on painful. 

Still she wanted that smug plane crashing bastard fucking gone. 

“Benedictus deus! Gloria patri!” she finished, screaming loud enough she felt her throat scrape. 

The plane was struck by lightning. Electricity arched through it until finally the plane leveled out and everything was calm. 

They sat stiff, still holding onto each other until the sounds of hysterical laughing and crying reached them from the passenger cabin. Jess collapsed back against Dean and went limp. 

Dean pried his fingers off the emergency door and eased his hold around Jess leaning back against the bulkhead. Jess tried to lift herself off of Dean or shift away from sprawling against him, but her entire body chose that moment to feel the beating she’d just gotten. She groaned. 

“Jess, you good?” he asked, words raspy. 

“I’m never flying again.” 

Dean chuckled and patted her belly consolingly. “I hear you, sweetheart. I hear you.”

*

The last two hours of the flight were torture. Every single passenger was traumatized and punchy from the near miss. The copilot had regained consciousness and was a little freaked out that he couldn’t remember a damn thing that happened after he got to the airport before boarding the plane. 

Amanda and the other stewardess were like saints or something because they managed to keep pretty much everyone from completely melting down. 

At some point Dean and Jess finally got off the floor and stumbled their way to their seats strapping themselves in. If Amanda noticed they’d pilfered a handful of mini liquor bottles each she didn’t say anything, but the plastic cups of ice that appeared on their folding trays suggested she didn’t mind. 

Jess had downed her first mini vodka bottle in two gulps but decided to savor her second. She put her head back and closed her eyes. Dean was on his third whisky finally having decided to make use of the little cup of ice. It clinked as he lifted it to his lips and took a long gulp. 

“So, that wasn’t so bad.”

She peeked an eye open and glared at him. “It was horrible.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean conceded. “So it was pants shittingly awful, but, hey, the plane didn’t crash and we didn’t die. Win, win.” 

“Jesus, you’re crazy,” she muttered and went back to closing her eyes. 

Dean was quiet for a moment before he spoke in a softer voice. “You did good.” 

Jess opened both her eyes and looked at him. 

“You did good, Jess.” He gave her a small proud smile. “Not every hunter would have kept their cool like you did and I’m pretty sure a rookie would have literally shit their pants, so yeah. You did good.” 

Her cheeks warmed and she glanced down at her plastic cup of vodka. “I was really fucking scared.”

“But you didn’t freeze,” he said. “And that’s half the job. Being scared, but doing it anyway.”

“You’re telling me you get scared on hunts?” she asked with a skeptical quirk of her lips. 

“Hell yeah!” He grinned. “I mean, planes, man. I’m pretty sure I would be curled up in a ball of tears on this one if it wasn’t for you.”

“Whatever.” Jess huffed and rolled her eyes. 

He placed a warm hand over hers on the arm rest and met her eyes sincerely. “I’m serious, Jess. I don’t think I could have done this one without you.” 

It warmed her heart because she knew that he was telling the absolute truth. For an accomplished liar, his eyes were the windows to his soul. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t have to.” She smiled warmly at him. 

They fell into companionable silence until Jess noticed that Dean was scowling darkly at his fourth whisky. 

“Dean?”

He flicked his eyes toward her and tried to brush it off with a half smirk. “Nothing. Just don’t like flying still.”

That wasn’t it and they both knew that. She flexed her hand around her vodka and felt the sting of her busted knuckles. She bit her lip hesitantly. 

“What the demon said,” she started. “You don’t think it’s true?”

“No.” 

Jerking her eyes up to look at him, Jess was taken aback by the fierceness in his expression. 

“Demons lie, Jess,” he told her. “They can read minds. They pick out the things that hurt the most and use them against us.”

Knowing that didn’t really make her feel any better, but the conviction in Dean’s words helped her push away the doubt. 

She sniffed angrily. “Hope the fucker burns in Hell.” 

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, that bitch is gonna be burning for a long, long time.” 

She shared a vicious grin with him. “Good.”

*

The feds were already at the terminal when the plane taxied down the runway. Jess didn’t need to ask to know that avoiding being question by the FBI was a very good idea. Luckily, Amanda was so grateful to them, she promised not to say anything even hinting at their involvement. They were able to dodge questioning and sneak out of the terminal relatively easily. 

Getting a rental car to drive back to Indianapolis was less easy. Especially when Dean point blank refused to set foot in a Prius. Of course ninety percent of the cars in the lot were Priuses. Finally the attendant, in a fit of self-preservation, tossed them the keys to possibly the last Crown Victoria ever made. 

Dean grumbled about a cop car being almost as bad as a Prius. Jess shut him down before he could get too worked up. 

“It’s either the cop car or the douche car, pick one.”

He scowled at her and stomped angrily toward the maroon Crown Vic. 

“I thought so.” Jess picked up her pink and purple duffle calmly following behind him. 

It was surprisingly roomy on the inside and Jess didn’t realize quite how exhausted she was until she awoke when Dean gently shook her shoulder. 

“We’re here. Wake up.”

She looked around at the motel parking lot blearily. “Indianapolis already?”

He snorted and tugged her from the front seat both their bags slung over his shoulder. “No. We’re stopping for the night.” 

“Oh, okay.” She followed sedately as he opened the motel and dumped their stuff on the bed closest to the door. 

She headed straight for the other bed and face planted. She was only a few blinks away from falling asleep again when Dean started to poke and prod her. 

“Not yet. I gotta check you out first.”

Jess groaned, but let him badger her into an upright position. 

He ignored her inarticulate complaining and gently walked his fingers up and down her ribs and pressed lightly over her abdomen.

“Nothings broken. Nothing but surface bruising far as I can see.” He ducked to look her in the eyes again. “You hurt anywhere else.” 

Knowing Dean wouldn’t let her lay back down and get some freaking sleep until he was damn sure she wasn’t going to expire between then and morning, Jess tried to take stock of any other bodily complaints she had. 

“My knuckles hurt, but that’s it.” 

Dean lifted her hand up to examine said knuckles. He had a smirk on his lips and his eyes glinted proudly. 

“That was a pretty good punch there,” he said rubbing a thumb soothingly over the scabbed reddened skin. “If he hadn’t been a demon, I’m pretty sure you would have knocked him out.” 

Jess huffed and shook her head. “Well it hurt like hell.” She wrinkled her nose. “No pun intended.” 

He chuckled and dug around in his bag pulling out the small innocuous first aid kit he’d gotten through security. Swabbing the skin with alcohol, Dean slathered on some Neosporin, and wrapped her hand in gauze to protect the damaged skin while she slept. 

“All, done.” He patted her knee. “Go back to sleep.” 

Grumbling, Jess toed off her running shoes and pulled her bra off through her shirt sleeve no longer caring if Dean caught an eyeful of her lingerie. They’ve been in the same living space long enough that it was unavoidable. She’s already seen more bits of him than she’d seen of any man she wasn’t sleeping with.

Curling up under the covers, Jess barely registered Dean muttering annoyed under his breath as he picked her bra off the floor and shoved it hurriedly into her bag. She let the sounds of him moving around getting the motel ready for them to sleep sooth her and she was almost ready to go under when Dean stopped by her bed. 

He was silent for a moment then Jess felt his warm callused hand stroke her hair from her face. “Go to sleep, Jess.”

Her eyes finally closed all the way and she fell asleep.  
*  
TBC...


	5. Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good thing she wasn’t a vain person, because Jess was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to look in a mirror for a good long while.

Jess knew she was scowling as she peeked out of the window. Dean was leaning against the Impala in the parking lot with his cell stuck to his ear. Again. 

Jerry Panowski told them he’d gotten Dean’s number from John’s voicemail and Jess didn’t know whether she should be supportive of Dean or angry at John. 

She chose to keep her peace. 

John was supposed to be some big shot hunter. His journal read like a Stephen King novel. He’d killed almost every kind of monster she could imagine and a few she couldn’t. He was, reading between the lines and according to Dean, supposed to be a superhero. 

He was also missing in action when his only remaining son needed him the most. Seriously, what kind of a father, first of all, ditched his kid and went radio silent when he had a dangerous job like monster hunting? Second, what kind of a father continued to stay radio silent when that son called to tell him his youngest son was dead? Burned up on the ceiling like his wife. 

Dick.

The doorknob rattled and Jess hurriedly closed the curtain and turned back to the laptop. Dean stepped into the room, met her gaze over the top of the screen and rolled his eyes. Even though she’d never said it, he knew she disapproved, but for the continued harmony of their partnership he graciously ignored it. 

They’ve been huntless for two weeks and Jess could tell Dean was getting antsy. She, on the other hand, could do with a little break. There was only so much monster killing a newbie college girl could take. 

“Got anything?”

Jess sighed and looked back down at the articles she’d pulled up from her keyword searches. 

“There’s a cattle mutilation -picture looks gross enough to be a cult-, a suspicious suicide –personally I’m betting on the wife-, and a guy got mauled by a yorkie but I’m pretty sure that’s just bad luck.” 

She clicked to the next couple of articles. Tripped on marbles, alien abduction, capuchin escapes from zoo. No, no, nope, maybe but probably not, definitely not, now that’s just nasty. 

“Yeah, I got nothin’.”

Dean was quiet and Jess glanced up from the screen curious. He was just sprawled on his bed propped against his headboard with his arms behind his head and his ankles crossed. 

And he was staring at her. With a really suspicious look on his face. 

“What?” she asked warily. 

He cocked his head to the side like he was measuring her. Sizing her up. 

“What? What are you staring at?”

A slow smirk curled up his lips and Jess’s eyes widened. That look meant nothing good. 

“You know,” he drawled, “if you’re gonna be in the life,” he said it like hunting was the mob, “you’re gonna have to learn how to make some dough.”

“What do you mean?” She was really wary now. Dean thought he was being sneaky, but she’d noticed the credit cards with fake names on them. Did he think she was stupid? No one was actually named Jack Mehoff.

“I,” he stretched and rolled off the bed all fluid grace, “am going to teach you how to hustle some pool.” 

Her eyebrows went up. “Seriously?”

He grinned. “Seriously.”

“I can’t hustle pool.” 

“Not yet, you can’t.” He sauntered over grabbing his jacket and keys as he went. 

Jess stood up and took a step away from him. “No, really, I can’t hustle pool. I’m terrible at pool!” 

“Course you are.” He made it sound like it was a foregone conclusion. She wanted to be insulted if it wasn’t so very true. 

“I hit Sam in the balls with the pool cue when he tried to teach me.”

Amusement flickered in his eyes and he grinned mischievously. “Sam gave our dad a black eye when he was learning so it’s good you got that tradition out of the way early.”

“Dean, I’m a complete mess with a pool table.”

“Good.” He grabbed her arm and started towing her to the door stopping only long enough for her to grab her jacket and her little cross-body purse. “That’s half the hustle right there.” 

*

The bar was sketchy in every sense of the word. The floor was sticky and crunchy and the area around the bar smelled so sour with old spilled rancid alcohol it made her sneeze. The second they walked in Jess felt eyes on them. Every big mean drunk looking dude in the place was looking her up and down. 

She turned right back around, but Dean just grabbed her shoulders and spun her around the other way again. 

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he murmured quietly enough for just her to hear. “We’re doing this if I have to toss you over my shoulder and carry you in here.” 

He’d do it too. 

“Fine.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest petulantly. He just grinned down at her and led the way to the bar. 

He ordered them a couple of beers and pulled a stool out for her all gentlemen like. He wasn’t foolin’ anyone.

They sat down at the bar and Jess shifted nervously trying not to make eye contact or tip over off her stool. The legs weren’t even and the rocking effect was a little dizzying. 

There were two pool tables in the place and a corner with a dart board. All three were taken up. Dean leaned back against the bar and threw arm around her waist casually. She almost shrugged him off until he pinched her side and she stiffly settled back. Apparently the touching was part of whatever game Dean had started playing the second they were through the doors. 

“See that, darlin’.” He nodded toward the pool table with two guys knocking balls around it seemingly at random. “Watch what they’re doing. Watch their body language.” 

Dean rarely said anything without a purpose. When he was this focused it was almost reminiscent of when he was hunting. She paid attention. 

The guys were average and working class. They were dressed similar to Dean and neither one of them seemed all that drunk though they both drank from their beers in between turns. She didn’t really know what she was supposed to be looking for. 

It must have been obvious, but from the look on her face ‘cause Dean took pity on her. 

“They’re serious about it,” he said. “They’ve got money riding on the game and they’re gonna play to win.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she murmured leaning more comfortably against him, getting distracted by the intrigue of the lesson. 

“For what we’re gonna be doing, yeah, it’s bad.” He sipped at his beer. “The trick to a good hustle is to be underestimated.” 

“Okay, explain it to me.” Jess remembered they were supposed to be acting casual and took a gulp of her own beer. It was kinda warm and didn’t sit well. 

“You gotta play mediocre, not good, not too bad, but you gotta be cocky about it.” He gestured to the table they were surreptitiously observing. “They’re playing a fifty dollar game at most. We,” he grinned at her, “are gonna play in the hundreds.” 

She looked skeptical. 

“Come on.” He stood up and held a hand out to her. “I’ll show you.” 

And he did. 

It was almost scary how he conned those men out of their paychecks. Like he seriously had them eating out of the palm of his hand. The game started when he grabbed the free table and insisted in a voice loud enough to be overheard but not obviously so, that he was going to teach his girl how to play pool. 

“You’ll do great, honey.” He patted her on the butt and she was so going to get him back for that. 

She, as predicted, did abysmally. Dean, however, was not deterred. He just shifted the con accordingly. There was something about the way he was teaching her that didn’t ring true. He did a lot more touching than was appropriate, but that went with the girlfriend cover and she was used to following his lead by then so she just went with it. 

The weirdness was how incomprehensible his instructions were. They contradicted each other and lacked the finesse he’d displayed in every other lesson he’d taught her. It was startlingly out of character and she had to try nearly as hard not to give up the con as she did at not injuring him with her cue. 

Regardless of his horrible teaching technique she did improve enough to at least hit a quarter of the balls she shot at into the pockets. 

When she’d gotten that far, he’d grinned at her wide and fake and smacked a sloppy kiss on her cheek. 

“That’s great, sugar! You’re almost as good as me.” 

Jess didn’t believe that for a second, but apparently one of the almost drunk but not quite guys watching her bend over believed it enough for the both of them. 

The rest of the night was enlightening. 

She’d known Dean could play a con long enough to get information, past security, or keep them from getting arrested, but watching him con this guy through three losing games was a new level of talent. 

Dean won the last game with a shot so freakishly difficult Jess was pretty sure he’d just bent the laws of physics. In the end they made a hasty exit with four hundred dollars in their pockets and a light buzz. 

“I’ll never be that good, Dean,” Jess said as they drove back to the motel. 

“Yeah, you will. Tomorrow I’ll take you to a different bar and really teach you.”

He pulled into the parking spot and cut the engine. “What did you think of the actual hustle?”

“It’s mostly strategy,” she responded thinking about the way he played that guy, the carefully botched shots, and the masterful manipulation. “Manipulation and strategy. Everything you did from the moment you stepped in the door was calculated.” 

He grinned and threw an arm around her shoulders shaking her companionably, still a little buzzed. “Got it in one, Jessie.”

She huffed good-naturedly and shrugged out from under his arm. “Good thing I’m good at chess then. It’s all strategy.” 

“Not sure it compares, but okay, let’s go with that.” 

The lesson the next night was a lot more helpful and by the time they left the bar, mostly drunk, in the wee hours of the morning, Jess was pretty sure she could give Dean a run for his money. She’d never be able to beat him, but she’d be able to hustle the average Joe Schmoe and that was the point.

*

Dean took her out to the back of the motel the next morning, unsympathetic to her hangover. Setting up a small plywood bullseye target about ten feet away, he handed her a rolled up leather satchel. 

Inside were two rows of gleaming razor sharp knives. Jess looked from the knives to the target and back again. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Gotta learn as many skills as you can, Jess. You never know.” Dean slid a knife from its place next to the others and casually flicked his wrist. 

It hit dead center. 

Jess swallowed. “This seems like a recipe for disaster.” 

“Don’t know until you try.” He handed her a knife hilt first. “Just don’t hit me and we’re golden.” 

It took her three hours with a break for lunch before she made it anywhere near the center of the target. 

“Well.” Dean tugged the knives from the plywood and slipped them back in the leather. “Not bad for a first try.” 

“There’s going to be a second one?” She whined. Her wrist hurt. 

“Until you hit the bullseye nine times out of ten we’re not stopping,” he said and just tugged her back to the motel completely deaf to her complaints. 

They spent a nice long week just hanging around in the same town. Jess got to practice pool. Dean made her practice darts as well ‘cause apparently you can hustle anything. And one night Dean blew fifty bucks on replenishing the alcohol stash in the trunk of the car. 

“Seriously, this stuff is crap.” Jess took another chug and passed the bottle back. 

They were parked out in a field sprawled out across the hood and staring up at the night sky. It was beautiful in a dizzying fall upward kind of way. Especially as tipsy as they were. 

Dean passed the bottle back to her quite a bit lighter. “Me and Sam used to do this.” 

“What? Get drunk in the dark?”

“No.” He smirked fleetingly. “We used to just find a field and sit on the Impala and stare at the sky.” 

Jess slowly lowered the bottle into her lap and looked at him. He was leaned back against the windshield with hazy eyes just staring blankly up at the stars. It suddenly occurred to her that since that night in Stanford she’d been doing most of the crying between the two of them. 

“Will you tell me more about him?” she asked quietly, leaning back next to him turning her head so she could watch his expression. 

He snorted. “You probably knew him better than I did.” 

“At Stanford, yeah.” She didn’t bother trying to disagree. They both knew it was true. “But I didn’t know Sammy. I didn’t know your little brother.” 

He was quiet for a long time. Long enough Jess thought he wasn’t going to respond at all, but finally he spoke. 

“Sam hated being called Sammy,” he said. “Would pitch a fit every time I said it after he turned twelve.” 

She smiled. “Yeah, he made the funniest bitch face every time someone called him that.” 

“God, yeah.” Dean chuckled. “His bitch face was freaking epic.”

Jess handed him the bottle and he drank some more. She figured he probably needed the courage if he was going to keep remembering. 

“Kid loved school,” he said like it was a foreign concept. “I mean loved it. Never missed a day when we were in a place long enough to go. When he was little he’d bring me all his homework to proof read.” 

Jess met his wistful gaze with a small smile. “You ever have to correct him?”

Dean snorted. “Not one goddamn time.” 

He went on. They finished the bottle and Jess listened eagerly, adding commentary here and there. But mostly Dean just talked and she soaked it all up like she was starving for it. 

Dean’s stories just kept on coming like a flood. Like the dam had finally broken and he could spill all those memories to make them stop hurting so much. Lance the wound they’d left behind. It was comforting to her to hear them and cathartic for Dean to finally talk about the brother he’d raised from an infant into a good man. 

“He gave me this amulet for Christmas one year.”

“First time he came on a ghost hunt he shot me full of rock salt instead of the ghost.”

“The night he found out about the supernatural was one of the worst nights of my life.”

“Kid wasn’t that great at hustling pool, but man he was an ace at hustling video games. You wouldn’t believe how much cash collage boys will throw around over Mrs. Pac-Man.”

“Sammy loved Lucky Charms. Always had to have the last bowl, but he always gave me the prize.” 

“He had a thing for She-Ra from _Thundercats_. Caught him jerking it to the Saturday morning cartoons one time when he was fourteen.”

“When I was seventeen we bought a butt load of fireworks for the fourth of July and set them off in an empty field. We almost set the field on fire, but it was one of the best nights of my life.”

Jess listened to every story. She laughed when she could and stayed quiet when she couldn’t. When Dean’s voice grew hoarse and the sky was lightening, she took his hand in hers and pressed them comfortingly against her chest. 

“When he was six months old, my dad shoved him in my arms and told me take him outside.” His voice caught and she squeezed his hand hard. She thought he could feel her heart beating. 

“I remember thinking he was too heavy. That I was gonna drop him. He was crying and wigglin’ so hard I was sure I was gonna drop him.”

Abruptly Jess rolled toward him. She wrapped an arm around him pulling and grasping until he was huddled against her his face buried in her shoulder. His entire body jerked like he was electrocuted and he made a sound like he was dying.

“I thought I was- but I didn’t.” He gasped, struggling to get the words out. Jess felt him wrap an arm around her waist and fist his hand in her shirt pulling her so tight against him she was afraid he couldn’t breathe. 

“I didn’t drop him.” He sobbed. “I got him out. I didn’t drop him.” 

Jess felt his tears soak her shirt and her skin. His face was pressed painfully into her collarbone and his fingers were going to leave bruises on her back. She just tightened her hold and buried her face in his hair. She couldn’t say anything, her throat was too tight. 

They stayed like that wrapped around each other, until Dean’s agonized sobs turned into to gasps turned into shuddering breaths. Jess didn’t move an inch, just held him wrapped around her blocking out the world so he could grieve the way he hadn’t allowed himself before. 

The sun had fully risen in the sky and the morning felt humid and warm. Dean’s body had stopped shaking against her and his grip on her had eased. He was breathing like he actually could now and he pulled back enough that Jess felt cold where their bodies had been pressed together. 

They didn’t say anything. Still holding each other they didn’t move for a long moment. Finally Dean completely uncurled himself and Jess sat up surreptitiously rubbing the feeling back in the arm he’d been laying on. He rubbed a rough hand over his face erasing hint of his tears, but not his bloodshot eyes. 

Clearing his throat awkwardly he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She held his gaze steady not a hint of pity or embarrassment reflected back at him. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, waving vaguely back toward the windshield. “For, you know.” 

She smiled at him. “You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to be there.”

Dean sighed, a reluctant smile turning up his mouth. “Thanks all the same. I- I needed it.” 

Her smile widened turned happier and she hopped off the hood. “Anytime, Dean. I mean it.” 

Huffing at her, trying to seem long suffering, he slid to the ground too and bent to pick of their empty whiskey bottle. 

“I know you mean it. Now let’s get breakfast. I’m freaking starving.”

Jess grinned and flopped into the passenger seat. “Let’s hit that diner near the motel. The sign said they have the best pie in the county.”

“Woman after my own heart.” Grinning, he revving the engine and spun around in the field leaving dust and tire tracks in his wake.

They hit blacktop and sped back toward town. Jess looked over at Dean and thought, lit by the sun, he looked like the shadow had finally lifted. 

*

Dean decided to take it upon himself to teach Jess how to play poker.

“Poker is mostly bluffing and strategy, playing the guy as much as the game,” he explained as he dealt them each two cards at their crappy Formica kitchenette table. “Having a good hand it great, being able to bluff the guy with the good hand is how you win.”

Jess nodded intently and waited for instruction after he’d dealt cards face up in the middle. 

“This doesn’t look like normal poker.”

“That’s right.” Dean nodded setting aside the rest of the deck. “This is Texas Hold’em.”

“Okay.” She peeked at her cards without flipping them over then looked up at Dean curiously. “What do we do now?”

“Now,” he grinned, “I teach you how to win.”

He slid a pile of silver, iron, and lead bullets toward her to act as their chips. “Okay, here’s what you do…”

They sat for the next twenty minutes, Dean walking Jess through a practice game then when it was over and he was sure she got the basic rules, he pointed out her tells. 

“Need to get rid of those if you’re going to be playing for money.”

“Okay.” She nodded solemnly and watched him deal them a new hand. “Remind me again, how many cards will there be in the middle at the end?”

They played a hand, Jess losing most of her bullets and Dean winning the round. But she did better than in the practice round. 

“You’re getting better.” He smirked while dragging the pot back to his pile of bullets. “Next round.” 

They played two more hands each time Jess getting better, but still not great.

“I think I got the hang of it now.” She smiled and shuffled around her considerably smaller pile of bullets. 

“Sure.” Dean nodded. “Let’s go with that.”

They played the next round and Jess took Dean for every bullet he had.

He blinked down the cards laid out on the table then blinked at her. She grinned and started delicately sorting his bullets into her now massive pile. 

“You just beat me.” 

“Yep.”

“But, you scrunch your nose when you….” 

She scrunched her nose still grinning. “Yep.”

“And you tapped your finger when you…”

She tapper her finger on the table top. “Yep.”

“You hustled me,” he muttered in disbelief.

Jess chuckled and reached over patting his hand. “It’s okay. It’s not like you knew my dad taught me to play as a kid or that I won our college dorm tournament two years in a row or anything.”

His scowled darkly. “You hustled me.” 

“Well,” she shrugged. “You didn’t ask if I knew how to play you just assumed. And you know what assuming does to people.”

He huffed and crossed his arms petulantly. “Shut up.” 

Dean was in a growly mood the rest of the night and Jess decided not to make it worse by gloating. Too much.

His ego may have been bruised, but that didn’t mean Dean didn’t know an opportunity when he saw one. The next night Jess found herself at a sticky table in a bar with grumpy scowly men on either side of her. She looked at Dean over her shoulder and glared. He just grinned. 

“Just do it exactly like I taught you, honey. You’ll do great.”

Oh, Jess decided, she was going to win but she wasn’t going to share a single red cent with Dean. 

She walked out of the bar six hundred dollars richer with a smirking Dean following in her wake.

*

They’d spent another night at the bar, this time just messing around enjoying their impromptu downtime. Jess woke the next morning feeling like the sun was stabbing her in the eyes and a dwarf was hammering on her brain. She didn’t know why she kept trying to match Dean drink for drink. The guy drank like a fish and rarely had a hangover. It just wasn’t fair. 

Dean had gotten coffee and she’d awoken so the smell of it sitting on her bedside table. It did a good job of dampening some of her nausea. The sight of Dean standing out in the parking lot with his phone stuck to his head did less so. 

She’d thought he had stopped banging his head against that particular brick wall. John Winchester was an obstinate bullheaded man and if he didn’t want to talk to his only living son, no amount of Dean blowing up his voicemail was going to change his mind. 

The disappointed look Dean failed to hide every time he hung up made Jess simultaneously hurt for him and want to beat his father upside the head. 

Dean needed a distraction. The downtime, teaching Jess the morally ambiguous financial side of the business, wasn’t distracting him enough. He needed a job and, truthfully, Jess could probably use one too. She knew it probably wasn’t a good thing, but the adrenaline of killing monsters was a little bit addictive. 

Google was a marvelous thing and it only took her as long as it took Dean to grab lunch before she found a case. 

An obituary about a guy that died from exploding eyeballs. Perfect. 

Dean didn’t even try to hide his relief when Jess told him about the case. They were in Toledo the next morning. 

*

Never having been to a morgue before Jess had envisioned it grimy and morbid and smelling like the dead. In reality it smelled like industrial strength cleaning chemicals and you could probably eat off the tables it was so clean. 

Following the tech down the hall to the bodies, Dean made known his displeasure at having to shell out a hundred bucks in bribes. 

“Why didn’t you just use your feminine wiles on him?” 

“’Cause it wasn’t my wiles he was checking out.” 

Dean looked at her blankly so Jess ran her eyes up and down his body pointedly. 

It took a second but he eventually got there. 

“What? No, he wasn’t!” Dean sputtered, scandalized. 

Jess had to suppress a grin. “Whatever you say.”

Steven Shoemaker’s body was pale and cold and Jess had a hard time looking at him without making a face. They were supposed to be med students and she didn’t think med students turned green around dead bodies. 

Then again, she glanced at the gaping holes in his head where his eyes should be. Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird if she asked for a trashcan. 

“You see a lot of bloodshot eyes in stroke victims, but not that amount of intense cerebral bleeding,” the tech said, looking way too fascinated while he was standing over a dead body. “Then again I’m not the doctor.”

“Hm.” Dean tilted his head and leaned a little closer to examine the damage. He was clearly not bothered by the sight of exploded eyeball sockets.

“Any chance we can see the police report?”

The tech flashed Dean a coy look. “I’m not supposed to show you that.”

Jess pulled out her wallet and forked over another fifty bucks before Dean’s uncomfortable fidgeting lost them their chance.

Because Jess was thorough, or just more conscientious, she made Dean get a motel room and change into his fed suit before they crashed Shoemaker’s wake. She didn’t think they’d get much of an accommodating welcome if they showed up in muddy boots and a Wonder Woman t-shirt. 

Walking up to the Shoemaker house, Jess shifted her toes around in her new semi-formal boots. She didn’t think they’d have to do any running this time, but it was better safe than sorry. Plus she’d used her kitten heels for knife throwing practice. It had been very satisfying. 

Donna Shoemaker was predictably surrounded by other teenage girls, all of them dressed in black. 

As always Jess let Dean provide the cover. Though, if she’d known what the cover was she might not have. Day traders, seriously? She didn’t think Dean even knew was a day trader was.

It was Donna’s little sister that put a darker spin on the interview.

“It happened because of me.” Lily looked like she was about to cry. 

Jess knelt down beside her and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Why would you say that, Lily?”

Lily sniffled. “Right before he died, I said it.”

“What did you say?”

“I said ‘Blood Mary’ three times in the bathroom mirror and she took his eyes. That’s what she does.”

A shiver went up Jess’s spine, but she tamped it down. She really had to break herself of that reaction. 

“But your dad didn’t say it, did he?” Dean had that tone of voice he used when he was trying to placate the civilians. 

“Well, no. I don’t think so,” Lily murmured still hunched in on herself staring down at her hands. 

Jess ducked her head to meet Lily’s sad eyes. “See?” She smiled sympathetically. “It couldn’t have been Bloody Mary. It’s not your fault.”

Staring down at the blood stained marble bathroom floor, Jess swallowed thickly. 

“So, Bloody Mary.” She looked at Dean as he studied the bathroom mirror. “Please tell me that’s just an urban legend.”

“It does sound like Bloody Mary.” Dean popped open the medicine cabinet and poked through the contents. “But I don’t get it.”

“What?” 

“Kids have been playing that game for decades and as far as I know no one’s actually died from it.” 

“Yeah.” Jess chuckled nervously. “Pretty sure my eyes would have been scratched out at the Sarah Miller’s fifth grade birthday party if you-know-who was actually real.”

Dean closed the medicine cabinet and turned back to Jess. “But here, it is real.” 

The sound of kitten heels on wood floors made them both try to skitter away from the bathroom. Unfortunately, the long haired teenage girl walked a little faster than they did. 

“Who are you guys?” She frowned at them and crossed her arms sternly. Jess wanted to say it was kind of adorable if she wasn’t worried about the girl turning them in.

Dean tried to grin at her. “Like we said, we worked with Donna’s-”

“He was a day trader, he worked by himself.” Her frown deepened and she cocked a hip unimpressed. 

He opened his mouth to try and spin it some more, but Jess elbowed him in the ribs. 

“I’m Jess and this is Dean. We’re investigating his death. We don’t think he actually died of a stroke.”

The girl’s frown turned from stern to nervous. “What do you mean?”

“Stroke victims don’t bleed from their eyes.” She gestured to the stain on the bathroom floor.

The girl swallowed and looked back them wary. “So, are you guys cops or something?”

“We look into unusual deaths.” Jess figured if the girl was smart enough to sniff out the lie in their cover she was smart enough not to believe they were really cops. She also didn’t seem to think the stroke explanation was all that believable either.

“If it wasn’t a stroke, then what was it?” 

Jess glanced at Dean a question in her eyes. _What do you think?_ He shrugged and nodded. _Your call._

“Here.” Jess reached into her purse and pulled out the note pad she took interview notes on. Tearing out a sheet she jotted down the number for the cell Dean gave her and held it out for the girl. 

“If you can think of anything strange or notice anything weird happening call us. We’ll help.” 

The girl took the number and stared down at it warily. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” Jess smiled at her and stepped around her tugging Dean along by his jacket sleeve. 

Back in their jeans and t-shirts, Dean drove them to the library.

“There are a ton of different versions of Bloody Mary.” Jess tapped her thigh in thought trying to think back to her childhood. “The only common theme is the scratched out eyeballs.” 

“Yeah and here is the only place people are actually dying.” Dean pulled into the parking lot. “Maybe this is where the legend started.” 

Jess bit her lip. “I don’t know. We’ll have to check the deaths going back decades.”

“Yeah, and who knows how long the legend’s actually been around,” Dean grumbled as they got out of the car and started up the steps. “This is gonna be a pain in the ass.” 

A huge pain in the ass, as it turns out. The computers in the library were down so Jess and Dean had to tote at least five record books back to their motel. It was like slogging through mush it was so slow going and staring at tiny print for hours, eventually your vision starts to swim and you go temporarily blind. 

Or at least you get so frustrated you want toss one of the massive books through the window. 

“That’s it! I’m done.” Jess shoved her book away and abandoned Dean to the abyss in favor of the laptop. 

What she found there was even less helpful. 

“The Bloody Mary legend has been around for at least a hundred years.” Jess dropped her chin in one hand and rubbed at her eyes with the other. “She didn’t even scratch your eyes out in the beginning. She was supposedly a spirit that showed you your future husband.”

She scrubbed at her face some more and hoped the burning in her eyes was just from the computer screen and not from oncoming eyeball bleeding. 

“You come up with anything?”

Dean snapped his book shut with a sigh. “A Laura and a Catherin committed suicide in front of a mirror and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but no Mary.”

“And that’s just in the area?”

“Yeah, in a three county radius.”

Jess’s hunter cell started ringing and she snapped it open thankful for the reprieve. 

“Hello?”

“ _Um, Jess?_ ” The voice was young and hesitant. Jess glanced up at Dean and he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“ _I’m Charlie. You gave me your number._ ”

“Is something wrong?”

There was a long pause and all Jess could hear was Charlie’s hitched breathing. 

“ _My friend, Jill, is dead._ ”

Two hours later Jess and Dean were crouched on Jill’s roof right outside her window waiting for Charlie to open it for them. 

“Night vision?” Jess whispered.

Dean nodded keeping his voice low too. “Yeah, it picks up more infrared and ultraviolet than our eyes.”

“Like visible EMF.” 

“Exactly.”

Charlie appeared in the window and slid it open. They crawled through into Jill’s room as quietly as possible. 

“I hate lying to Jill’s mom.” Charlie looked a little red around the eyes as she pressed a hand to forehead. 

“It’s alright.” Jess patted her on the arm. “This will help us figure out what happened to Jill.”

Charlie took a deep breath then nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Hit the lights.” Dean handed Jess the digital video camera and snapped the night vision filter on. 

Jess was fiddling with the settings trying to get the hang of it when she noticed Dean on the flip out screen. He had his butt pushed out and was looking at the camera over his shoulder. 

“Do I look like Paris Hilton?”

“Your butt’s too big,” Jess deadpanned. 

Dean looked mildly insulted. “Your butt’s too big,” he muttered. 

She raised an eyebrow at him and he seemed to realize what he just said. He stuttered trying to backtrack.

Jess smirked at him. “Gotcha.”

Charlie muffled a giggle behind her hand and Dean huffed pouting. 

The night vision was different. Everything was in shades of neon green and Jess wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to be looking for. 

“What’s this spirit after anyway?” Jess asked as she moved on to the bathroom from the closet mirror. “One summoned her and the other didn’t.”

“I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.” Dean shot Charlie a stern look.

She shifted nervously and hunched her shoulders. “It was just a joke.” 

“Well, someone’s gonna say it again eventually and someone else is gonna die.”

Jess felt sorry for Charlie. Dean’s disapproving scowl was kind of intimidating. 

She glanced back down at the digital camera and spotted a white-green drip of something that definitely wasn’t paint. 

“Dean, I think I found something.” 

Dean and Charlie came and looked over her shoulder to see the screen. 

“What’s that?” Charlie looked from Jess to Dean curiously. 

“Dunno.” Dean stepped back and headed for the window again. “I’m gonna get the black light in the trunk.” 

“Huh.” Jess didn’t know they had a black light in the trunk. 

The presumably bloody handprint and finger-painted name on the back of the mirror just made everything a little creepier and a little more mysterious. Some digging into Gary Bryman didn’t clear up any of their questions either. 

That is until Charlie’s eyes widened and she paled. “Oh my God. Jill drove that car.” 

Crouching on the blood stained floor in Steve Shoemaker’s bathroom staring at the name of his dead wife on the back of a mirror Jess felt her stomach twist. There was a pattern, a very horrible pattern. 

“Do you really think Donna’s dad could’ve really killed her Mom?”

“That would be my bet.” Dean ushered them toward the front door eager to leave before Donna decided to call the cops. 

“So the pattern is people with a secret where someone died.” Jess sighed. “That makes finding any possible victims pretty much impossible.” 

“That’s why we need to find out who Mary is and stop her before anyone else thinks it’s a good idea to play scary kids’ games.”

Charlie stuck her head between them from the backseat biting her lip nervously. “I think I should stick around.” 

Dean thought for a moment then glanced at her. “Alright, but whatever you do don’t-”

“Believe me.” Charlie sat back her eyes still a little wide as she shook her head. “I won’t.” 

Doing a nationwide search for a Mary that died in front of a mirror sounds daunting. You’d think there would be dozens of deaths you’d have to eliminate. But, nope, Mary Worthington from Fort Wayne, Indiana was almost too easy to find.

“How is she traveling through mirrors?” Jess contemplated as they drove to Fort Wayne to talk to the investigating detective. “Why mirrors to begin with?”

“Well, she did die in front of a mirror.” Dean propped his left elbow up against the window and relaxed in his seat. 

Jess frowned, that couldn’t be all it was. A vague memory from a cultural history class she took her sophomore year floated to the surface. “People used to cover up mirrors in houses where people died. They thought it would keep their spirit from being caught in them.”

“Right. Mirrors are supposed to reflect your soul or something like that. That’s why it’s bad luck to break them.”

“If Mary’s summoned she sees your soul, your secrets and then she punishes you.” Jess felt a twisting in her gut. After this is over it’ll be a long time before she’ll be able to look in a mirror without glancing over her should.

The detective that worked on Mary’s case was retired and shadowed in a way that said he’d seen some stuff. 

“I’ve been on the job for thirty-five years. Everyone packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington case. That one still gets me.”

Jess felt she understood too well why it would haunt this man. Mary had been nineteen and ambitious and beautiful. There had never been an arrest and no really viable suspects. She’d had her eyes cut out and she never had the chance to get justice.

“Sir, what do you think happened?” Jess asked, watching the detective’s face as it went grim. 

“See the T-R-E.” Right under the bloody handprint, it was hard to miss. “I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.”

“Who was it?”

“I always thought it was a local surgeon, Trevor Sampson.” Jess looked at the picture of a middle aged man wearing sunglasses inside and dressed like a mobster. Yeah, he wasn’t sketchy at all. 

“I think he cut her up good.” 

Dean was scowling down at the picture. “Why would he do that?”

“Mary was having an affair with a married man. In her journal she called him by the initial ‘T’.” He shook his head. “In her last entry she mentioned she was going to tell T’s wife about them.”

Silly, naïve Mary. Jess sighed, her heart aching for her. 

“The way her eyes were cut out,” the detective frowned, “it was almost professional.”

“You could never prove it.” Dean’s expression was solemn, sympathetic. Jess knew he could relate. 

“No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.” The detective leaned back in his chair looking up at them, tired and grave. “Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy’s secret, but she never could.”

Mary’s mirror had been given back to her family and they sold it. It was now in Toledo and Mary was killing people with secrets. 

“How are we supposed to stop her?” Jess popped the antenna on her cell up and down nervously. “There’s no body to burn and she moves through mirrors.”

“I say we smash the mirror.”

“Yeah, but if she’s not actually in the mirror when we smash it, what good’s that gonna do?” 

Dean frowned in thought for a long moment. “We have to summon her to her mirror.”

Jess got a bad feeling about this. “Who’s going to summon her?”

He was quite for a long moment and Jess really didn’t like the look on his face. 

“No.” She shook her head. “No, no, absolutely not.”

“Jess…”

“Don’t!” she snapped. “You’re not summoning her because you don’t have a secret. You already told me about that night. I know everything so it’s not a secret.” 

Dean grimaced and opened his mouth, but he was saved by the cell. 

Jess flipped it open sharply and answered with a curt, “Yes.”

“ _Jess!_ ” Charlie was crying, sobbing and gasping for breath.

“Charlie?” Jess straightened in her seat. “Charlie, what’s wrong?”

Charlie’s voice quivered as she tried to speak through her fear. “ _Donna said it and now she’s after me!_ ”

“Okay, we’re on our way. Just stay where you are.” Jess snapped the phone shut. 

“Dean, drive faster.”

Their motel was dark and gloomy. Charlie was huddle on Dean’s bed rocking back and forth with her face hidden against her knees. Jess sat next to her, rubbed her back soothingly and listened to her secret. 

“I had this boyfriend.” Charlie’s tears were still falling but her voice was steady. “I loved him, but he scared me too.”

He scared her and she’s been carrying guilt over his death for a long time. Until Mary saw it in the mirror and chased her into the dark. 

“It’s not your fault,” Jess murmured still rubbing her hand up and down the girl’s back trying to comfort her. “It wasn’t ever your fault.”

A secret where someone died. 

Jess had been trying not to think about it and at the same time couldn’t stop. The memory of Sam burning on the ceiling was forever etched into her mind and reappeared in her dreams. Dean had seen it too. He knew what tormented her at night. 

But he didn’t know her secret. She never told him. 

“You’re not summoning Mary to her mirror because I am.” 

Dean slammed on the breaks and jerked the car onto the shoulder. “Hell no!”

“Dean-”

“You’re not doing it because it’s not a secret Jess.” He glared at her. “I know all about it.”

She stared ahead then stared at her hands. “Not everything. You don’t know everything.”

The silence was stifling. She could almost feel the angry heat of his gaze on her. 

He turned away from her restarting the engine. “It’s not happening. I won’t let you.” 

“You can’t stop me, Dean.”

“Bullshit I can’t.” He scowled at her even as he turned the corner onto the antique shop’s street. “You’re not doing it because I’m going to do it.” 

Jess hissed in frustration. “This is ridiculous! One of us has to do it. And it’s not going to be you, ‘cause I won’t let you.” 

Dean braked too hard and slammed the gear into park. “Damn it, Jess, I don’t want to lose you too!”

Their harsh angry breathing filled the car, both of them tense and a heartbeat from fighting again. Suddenly Dean blew out a harsh breath and deflated. 

“Fine. Neither of us will do it alone, we’ll do it together.” He looked at her and Jess looked back in surprise. “We summon her together.”

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay. We’ll do it together.”

The antique shop was, unfortunately, filled to the brim with mirrors. It would be creepy if it wasn’t so freaking frustrating. 

“Jesus, it’s like a needle in a stack of reflective needles.” 

Dean snorted and held out one of their crowbars to her. “Yell if you find it.” He looked at her sternly. “We’ll do it together.” 

She nodded seriously. “Yeah.”

Their flashlights reflected like prisms and it would have been fun to play around if they weren’t going to smash one of them to destroy the spirit of a murdered girl. The round and oval mirrors were discounted right off the bat and most of the mirrors were too small to be Mary’s mirror. Jess made it to the back of the shop, but it was Dean that found it. 

She came up next to him and stared at it. 

“Man, that thing’s creepy even if it wasn’t full of vengeful spirit.” 

Jess had to agree. The baroque frame had an austere look to it. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in a gothic mansion. 

“How are we going to do this?”

Dean lifted his crowbar and readied his stance. He met her gaze in the mirror and she nodded. “Together.”

“ _Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary._ ”

A second later and nothing happened. Jess glanced at Dean in confusion. He shrugged. Then the shop suddenly lit up with the reflections of headlights.

“Shit,” Dean cursed. 

“Go.” Jess nodded toward the front door. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

She shoved him with her elbow. “You gotta stop them from coming in here. I’ll smash anything that moves. Go.”

He growled under his breath, but turned toward the front. “I’m serious, Jess, anything that moves.”

“Got it. Go.”

He disappeared and Jess turned back to the mirror. It wasn’t a blink later and she was swinging to her right taking out an oval mirror almost as tall as her. Movement to the left and a standing dressing mirror shattered. 

Her heart was pounding, and her grip on the crowbar felt kinda sweaty. “Come into this one. Come on. I need you in this one.” 

She smashed a small square mirror and looked back at Mary’s mirror only to see her reflection smirk at her. It tilted its head and Jess felt sharp throbbing pain lance up her neck into her eye sockets. 

“ _You killed him. You saw it._ ” 

She groaned and struggled to stay upright her head was pounding so hard. 

“ _You opened the door. You let it into your house._ ” 

Where was Dean? She needed Dean. Her arms were shaking and she could feel the hot blood streaming down her face. 

“ _You killed Sam!_ ”

She screamed and swung with all of her might praying she kept her shaky sweaty grip on the crowbar. The sharp forked end of the bar hit the mirror and it shattered into a thousand pieces. The reverberation of impact loosened her grip and she dropped it. 

She stood there shaking and gasping, but she knew something was wrong. Her eyes were still bleeding and the pain in her head was getting worse. Movement in the mirror frame caught her attention and she looked down into Mary’s pale eyeless face. 

“Shit.”

Jess had time to suck in a sharp gasp then Mary lunged at her. Their bodies impacted and the air was knocked out of Jess’s lungs when she hit the floor with Mary’s entire weight on top of her. She had a stray thought that Mary was freakishly solid for a ghost then Jess was too busy trying to keep her from actually scratching her eyes out. 

“ _You killed him!_ ” Mary shrieked scoring Jess’s cheek with jagged nails. “ _It was your fault!_ ”

“No!” She gasped, trying to suck in air and struggling against the ghost with failing strength as her brain practically liquefied. “Dean!”

“Hey, Bitch!” 

The ghost’s head jerked up just in time for Dean slam his crowbar into her head like a baseball bat. Mary went flying slamming into a display of mirrors before scurrying like a beetle back onto her hands and knees. 

Jess rolled herself to the side toward Dean and scrambled backward until her back hit his shins. He stepped over her and Jess looked up to see his entire body was trembling, sweat was dotting his forehead and blood was smeared across his cheeks. 

“Come on, bitch! I dare you!”

Mary sneered, her empty eyes pointed unerringly at him and she lunged again. Dean swung and hit her in the shoulder. It knocked her off course, but she caught his shoulder with her clawing jagged nails and took him down with her. 

Jess’s eyes darted around, frantically looking for her crowbar, and spotted it tossed clear across the room. 

“Fuck!” She scrambled to her feet but tripped on numb legs and fell back to the mirror shard covered floor. 

“ _You knew what day it was! And you still left him!_ ”

“Jess!” Dean had his forearm barred across Mary’s throat trying to get his feet between them to kick her off. “A mirror! Get a mirror!” 

Dean finally shoved a boot in her gut and she went flying again. He jumped unsteadily to his feet and braced himself.

Jess grabbed the first mirror she could get her hands on, a sterling silver hand mirror, and tossed it at him. Catching it in blood slicked hands Dean flipped it around and pinned in on Mary’s face a second before she attacked again. 

The ghost went still and stared for a long moment. Jess could just faintly hear a scratchy voice. 

“ _You killed them! All those people! You killed them!_ ”

Mary choked, reached up to clutch at her face then she melted into a splash of blood. It tinkled against the shards of mirror like rain then every trace was gone. 

Dean slammed the hand mirror into the floor shattering it too then his knees when out from under him and he collapsed on his butt on the glass covered floor. 

Jess managed to stumble toward him before she collapsed too, almost falling into his lap. 

“Dean? Is it over?” She leaned heavily against him clutching at his shirt.

“Yeah,” he rasped, “Yeah I think it’s over.” 

She went limp. “Thank fuck.”

Chuckling roughly, Dean cupped her face in shaky hands and turned it up toward him. “You okay?”

She nodded, her head still aching, but not hemorrhaging anymore she didn’t think. “Yeah, you?”

“I’m good.” He let her get a hand on his face and try to wipe off some of the blood before he brushed her away. “Come on. We gotta get outta here before the cops wake up.” 

“Oh God. Don’t tell me you knocked out a couple of cops.” 

He chuckled again then groaned as they tried to use each other as leverage to stand. “Fine, I won’t tell you then.”

“Shit. One of these days you’re going to get me arrested, Dean Winchester.” Jess wrapped an arm around his waist while he wrapped one of his around her shoulders. 

“It could be like a rite of passage.” He smirked as they hobbled their way to the backdoor. “Gank a monster, put a spirit to rest, do some time. You’re already two thirds of the way there.”

Jess just sighed and concentrated on not making them both face plant in the parking lot.

*

Jess watched Charlie walk back into her house and couldn’t help the small smile. The young girl looked like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. They saved her and now she had a life ahead of her to grieve and rebuild. 

It was also another reminder of why the job wasn’t so terrible. Why it was worth it to fight an urban legend mirror monster. To save the innocent girl. 

Dean pulled away from the curb and turned toward the interstate. They didn’t stop driving until it was dinner time and he thought it was time to find a motel. 

Jess convinced him to get something other than burgers and now they were sucking MSG flavored noodles out of Chinese takeout boxes. It would have been a relatively normal evening, but Jess couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling around in her head. 

“My secret.” She looked up and met Dean’s eyes. “I think I should tell you my secret.”

Setting his noodles aside, Dean frowned. “You don’t have to.” 

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I think I need to.” 

There was a long moment of quiet with just the shopping channel playing softly in the background. Dean moved to sit next to her on the bed waiting patiently. 

“The night Sam died.” She took a steadying breath. “Before that thing pinned me to the ceiling I saw it.”

Dean stiffened. “What?”

“I was pulling cookies out of the oven and there was a knock on the door.” Jess’s hands shook but she couldn’t stop now. “I thought, maybe he was home early, and I didn’t stop to think. He had a key, he wouldn’t knock. I opened the door and I saw-”

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. “Jess…”

“No, I need to finish.” She waited for him to turn back and face her. 

“It was a man. Or at least man shaped. It was so dark, I guess the porch like was out, so I couldn’t see its face, but I saw its eyes.” Dean’s hands were fisted so tight his knuckles were white, but she didn’t stop. 

“They were yellow,” she whispered and Dean’s breath hitched. “Pale yellow.”

“My dad,” he paused and deliberately unclenched his hands, flexing his fingers. “My dad said the thing that killed my mom had yellow eyes.”

“I let it in,” Jess choked as her throat suddenly closed up. “It killed your mom, it killed Sam and I opened the door and let it in.”

“Stop.” Dean gripped her arm almost bruising. “Just stop, Jess.”

Her mouth snapped shut, her teeth clacking. She looked at him with wide guilty eyes. 

“It would have come in whether you opened the door or not.” Dean held her gaze making damn sure she was listening. “Evil like that doesn’t need an invitation. No matter what you did or didn’t do it would have come inside your house and pinned you to the ceiling just the same.”

Jess hitched a sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

He gave her a sad smile. “I didn’t think it would. But it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not sure I can believe that.” 

“Try.” He let go of her arm but the heavy tension in the air didn’t dissipate. 

“November 2, 1983, on Sam’s six month birthday,” Dean’s voice was a deep resonant rumble and Jess wouldn’t have been able to look away even if she wanted to. “My mom died on the ceiling in his nursery.”

“I know,” Jess said softly.

He shook his head. “When I dropped Sam off at your apartment, I knew what day it was. I saw it on my watch.” He looked at her like he was in pain. “I knew what day it was and I still left him.”

“But you came back.” Jess took his trembling hand in hers and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. “You came back.”

“I shouldn’t have left him to begin with,” he hissed.

Looking down at their hands, Jess shook her head sadly. “It wouldn’t have mattered. He still would have done the same exact thing. It’s not your fault, because he would have traded places whether you’d been there or not.” 

“Stubborn idiot.” 

The tension broke and Jess glanced up with a wry grin. “Wasn’t he just.”

Dean huffed amused and squeezed her hand once before letting go and grabbing his noodles again. 

“There was nothing you could’a done. And there was nothing I could’a done and we’re just gonna have to try and believe that.”

Jess snorted. “Good luck with that. I’ve barely known you three months and already I know you’re an emotionally stunted guiltaholic.” 

“Don’t lie. My emotional constipation’s rubbed off on you and you know it.”

“God help me,” Jess groaned. “I don’t want to have the emotional range of a tea spoon.” 

“Shad up. And pass me the remote. If I have to watch another ShamWow infomercial I’m gonna shoot that fucking tv with buck shot.”

Jess laughed and tossed him the remote. The tension was broken, the guilt and grief were once again swept under rug though there was less of it now. They were still far from alright, but at least they were inching toward it. 

Munching on salty noodles and watching a re-run of _Die Hard with a Vengeance_ , Dean and Jess leaned against each other and took comfort in the fact that they weren’t alone, that they were together. 

*  
TBC…


	6. Two Faced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess’s old life interrupts her new life but she couldn’t just ignore a call for help from a friend. Dean’s not enthused and she couldn’t blame him. After all it’s his reputation on the line.

The gas station was one of those multipurpose general stores. It had a mail box, a couple of pay by the minute computers with wi-fi, and a tiny section of essential clothes. Dean was outside filling up the Impala and Jess was inside trying to decide if she really needed to shave her legs or if she was willing to stretch it out to a whole month. It’s not like she had anyone to impress anyway. 

“Fuck it.” She grabbed a package of razors and a can of shaving cream. Legs or no, there was no way she was going another day with armpit hair. 

Snagging Dean’s candy and beef jerky she was on her way to the cash register when a display of postcards caught her eye. 

In Blackwater Ridge, on a spur of the moment fancy, Jess had snatched up a postcard with a massive bear on the front. In Lake Manitoch she bought a card with a picture of the now defunct dam. While Dean was haggling with the rental car guy, she palmed a postcard from Indianapolis. And on the drive in, before people’s eyes started liquefying, Jess added a “Greetings from Toledo” card in with their six pack of beer. 

Maybe it was silly of her, but postcards were a thing in her family and it was reflex to just pick one up everywhere. And standing there with M&Ms under one arm and a packet of disposable razors in the other Jess felt like those postcards were burning a hole in her pocket. 

“Hey, Jess. We ready to go or what?”

Snapping her eyes away from the display she saw Dean poking his head in the door expectantly. 

“Uh, yeah.” She dumped her purchases on the counter. “Can you pay for this stuff? There’s something I want to do.”

He looked at her curiously. “What’s up?”

“I uh…” she started embarrassed. “I want to send off some postcards.” 

She couldn’t tell what exactly Dean was thinking. His expression was unreadable for a long moment then he looked away nodding at the cashier. 

“Can we get some stamps to go with this stuff?” 

The old man, the owner, pulled down a packet of Liberty Bell forever stamps, rang it up and handed it to Jess with a smile. 

“Thank you.” Jess gave the cashier a distracted smile. Then turned to Dean and grinned at him. “There anything you want me to tell my parents?”

He snorted. “That’s all you, darlin’. I’ll be in the car when you’re done.” 

The computers caught the corner of her eyes and she bit her lip hopefully. “Do I have time to check my email while I’m at it?”

He gave a beleaguered sigh and shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Thanks!” Jess chirped and darted around the counter to the row of computers snagging a pen from the cup next to the register as she went. 

Sitting down with the cards spread out in front of her, it was hard trying to think of what to write. 

“Dear Mom and Dad, I killed my first wendigo. It smelled like roadkill.” Yeah, no.

Chewing on her lip in thought, Jess tried to decide if she should water down their adventures or lie and write about something completely innocuous. Shrugging she uncapped the pen and started writing. 

“Dear Mom and Dad, Went camping. Saw a really big bear. D almost set the forest on fire. Hope you’re doing well. Love Jess.” She scrawled out her parent’s address, slapped a stamp on it and flipped to the next one. 

“Dear Mom and Dad, Lake was cold. Am never going fishing again. D made friends with a young artist. Love, Jess.”

“Dear Mom and Dad, Caught spur of the moment flight. Lots of turbulence. D’s afraid of flying and got drunk. Love, Jess.”

“Dear Mom and Dad, Learned lots of local history. Went antiquing, accidentally broke some mirrors. Totally D’s fault. Love, Jess.”

She double checked all the stamps and addresses then stood and dropped them in the outgoing mailbox. Popping a couple quarters in the money slot for the wi-fi, Jess popped open their laptop and spent a laborious couple minutes waiting for her email to finally load. The internet was so freaking slow it was like torture.

It was almost a surprise how many emails she actually had. A lot of them were spam, but some were from friends back at Stanford checking in, asking how she was doing. A couple from professors bugging her about completing her classes or about coming back the following semester. She didn’t do more than skim most of them. 

It took her about two minutes to type out a mass reply following the general theme of needing some time to find herself and taking sabbatical of indeterminate length. She was about just hit “send” when one subject line caught her attention. 

Her computer chimed a “times almost up” warning and Jess hurriedly clicked on the email, read it then typed out a short reply. She hit send on it then hit send on the rest and packed away the laptop darting out the door. 

Dean had pulled the Impala around to the tiny parking lot next to the general store and Jess jogged over. She yanked the door open and threw herself inside. 

Lynyrd Skynyrd was blasting through the radio and Dean was sprawled out in the driver’s seat, sunglasses on, head tipped back tossing M&Ms into his mouth. Lifting his head he raised an eyebrow at her when she slammed the door hard enough to rock the car. 

Jess cut him off before he could complain about any mistreatment of Baby. 

“We’re going to St. Louis.” 

“What? Why?”

“Rebecca, a friend of ours from Stanford, says her brother Zack’s been arrested for murder.”

“Uh.” Dean tipped his glasses down and peered at her over the tops. “Okay. And we’re going to St. Louis why?”

“Because they’re our- my friends,” Jess insisted. “Becky says Zack was with her the entire time, but the cops are convinced it’s him.”

He straightened in his seat and tapped the steering wheel impatiently. “Still not seeing why we need to get involved.” 

“They are my friends,” Jess scowled, “and they might need our help.”

“How’s that, you figure?” He looked at her skeptically. 

“That’s what we do, isn’t it? Help people.”

“Yeah. From monsters, not other people,” Dean protested but Jess just stared him down. “Fine.” He threw his hands up in defeat then threw the car into drive. “St. Louis, it is.”

He peeled out of the parking lot too fast and sprayed gravel under the tires. Jess gripped the door handle in surprise, but wisely to let it slide. No use in annoying Dean any more than she already had. Otherwise he’d be unbearable the entire drive there.

*

Rebecca Warren’s house was rich. Like mansion rich. Jess could tell Dean felt uncomfortable just stepping into the front foyer. Of course the fact that they even had something called a foyer probably said something about Warrens’ lifestyle. 

“I’m so sorry, Jess.” Rebecca pulled her into a hug. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the funeral.” 

“It’s alright. I understand everyone was taking it hard.” Truthfully, Jess couldn’t even remember people’s faces from the funeral much less which ones talked to her.

Jess hugged her back but felt awkward and stiff. It’s been months since she’s had any physical contact with anyone that wasn’t Dean. He was all broad, muscular build and gave off the impression of invulnerability. Rebecca was small pressed against her, fine boned and soft. Jess felt like if she squeezed too hard she’d snap Rebecca in half. 

Jess was surprised how quickly she’d gotten used to the literal physical isolation that came as a part of her new life. 

Rebecca pulled back her eyes full of sympathy. “You left town so quickly afterward none of us got a chance to say goodbye.”

Jess shrugged apologetically. “I needed some space to figure myself out. Dean was leaving to go back to work and I decided to go with him.” 

Rebecca’s gaze slid to Dean standing silently behind Jess. Her expression of friendly concern morphed into suspicion. “You’re Sam’s brother, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded vaguely. “That’s me.”

Looking back at Jess, uncertain, Rebecca asked, “What –um- what have you guys been doing since then? Since you left.”

Jess pasted the most reassuring unconcerned smile on her face as she could. “We’ve just been road tripping; working through stuff, seeing the sights, taking some time to hit up the state parks. Did you know there’s a sequoia with a hole in it big enough to drive a car through?”

It hadn’t occurred to them, at the time, how their sudden and unexpected closeness would look to the rest of the world. But after Jess’s mom had cornered her with worried questions, they weren’t surprised that Rebecca was making the same assumptions. Once they’d noticed, they weren’t oblivious to how a young attractive unrelated man and woman traveling together looked.

The tree non-sequitur worked its magic and derailed Rebecca’s suspicious train of thought. 

She laughed, and grinned at her friend. “God, Jess. I didn’t realize you’d be so into nature.”

Jess just smiled and shrugged. “Your email said Zack was in trouble.”

Rebecca’s expression clouded and she nodded solemnly. “Yeah, why don’t you guys follow me?”

They walked through Rebecca’s fancy house and into the kitchen where Jess and Dean accepted her offer of a beer. Dean was always up for one and Jess needed the distraction. She didn’t realize how uncomfortable she’d be reconnecting with any part of her old life.

Rebecca set a beer in front of each of them and watched taken aback as Dean grabbed Jess’s before she could touch it. He used his ring to pop the cap off and set the bottle it back in front of her before he did the same to his. 

Jess was oblivious to her friend’s surprise. The routine had long since become so familiar it didn’t faze her a bit. She grabbed the beer without a word and took a long swallow. 

“Tell me what’s happening, Rebecca.” Jess tapped the bottom of her beer bottle on the granite counter. “You’re email didn’t say much. Zack was arrested for murder?”

Rebecca sighed, her face falling. “When he went home, he found Emily. She was tied to a chair, beaten and covered in blood, and she wasn’t breathing. He called 911, but when the cops got there they arrested him.” Her voice hitched. “They said they have him on video going back to his apartment around ten thirty, her time of death, but he was with me having some beers until after midnight. He can’t be in two places at once.”

Jess’s expression hardened with determination. “We might be able to help Zack,” she said, completely ignoring the huff of surprise from next to her. 

Dean tapped his boot against Jess’s to get her attention. He tried to give her a pointed look, but she just kicked back at him.

“What can you do?” Rebecca asked. 

“Dean is a private investigator,” Jess patted Dean on the arm and smiled in the face of his incredulous look. “If he can take a look at the case he might be able to find something.”

“Really?”

Dean scowled in the face of Rebecca’s hopefulness and Jess’s smug grin, but he quickly schooled his expression and nodded. “Sure. No problem, it’s what I do.” 

The moment Rebecca was out of the room looking for the keys to Zack’s apartment, Dean turned and glared at Jess. 

“Really?!”

“Yes.” She was unperturbed. “They need our help.”

“It’s not even our kind of deal.”

“A person in two places at once?” She raised an eyebrow pointedly. “We just got off a case we found from an obit about a stroke victim. We’ve looked into less.”

“Yeah, alright, point taken.” Dean sighed in resignation. “We’ll look into it, but if it’s not our thing, we’re leaving.” He pointed his finger at her warningly.

“Of course.” She smirked triumphantly around a sip of her beer. 

Zack’s apartment was chaos and blood. Magazines, throw pillows, and lamps were scattered all over. Everything was sprayed in a liberal smattering of dried blood. It was a gruesome sight, but not quite as bad as an eyeball-less dead body. 

The thing that sent the hairs on the back of Jess’s neck up, though, was the story the scene told. Emily died violent and painful and Jess was determined to find out what really happened. There was no way that Zack killed his girlfriend, that he did this. He wasn’t that kind of guy. 

Rebecca was hovering by the door and Jess came to stand next to her in support. Dean was already well into the apartment examining the scene. 

“Tell us what the cops said.” He used a finger to lift up a magazine from the coffee table. It peeled away sticky. 

“They said there was no sign of a break in.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself. “She let in her attacker. The lawyers think Zack might have to take a plea bargain,” she said looking lost. 

Jess rubbed a hand comfortingly up and down her arm. “Zack’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out.”

They were quiet for a few more long moments just the next door neighbor’s dog continuous barking to break the silence. Dean finished poking around and turned to the door ushering them out. He paused at the top of the steps and eyed the dog. 

“How long’s he been freaking out like that?”

Jess glanced at him curiously. Not sure where he was going with this.

Rebecca frowned in thought. “I guess since around the time Emily was killed.” 

“Hm.” Dean turned back to look at her. “Any chance we can see those video tapes you mentioned.” 

“Sure.” She ducked her head embarrassed. “I kinda stole them off the lawyer’s desk.”

He grinned. “Perfect.” 

They started to walk back down to the car, but Jess was stuck watching the dog. It hadn’t stopped barking since they pulled up. She wasn’t sure how it tied into Zack’s case, but Dean never asked about anything that wasn’t relevant to the hunt. 

He asked about the dog for a reason and Jess trusted his judgment. She filed it away to examine later. 

The video of Zack coming home to kill his girl was pretty damning. That is, until you noticed his eyes glowing every time he faced the camera. 

“Ten to one that’s not just a camera flare.”

Jess glanced at Dean. “What can do that? What has eyes that glow on film?”

He shrugged. “Whatever it is, it ain’t Zack that’s for sure.” He grabbed the remote from her and rewound the video to watch in slow motion again. “Remember that dog that was freaking out. Animals are more sensitive to the supernatural than we are. It probably saw this thing. It could be a doppelganger, a kind of dark double.”

“Well, that’s different.” Jess took a drink from her second beer of the evening. “How do we kill it?”

“We have to actually figure out what the thing is first.” He glanced at her with an amused quirk of his mouth. 

“A monster that can take on the form of a person, has eyes that glow on film, and likes to murder people.” Jess jumped up from the sofa and headed for the door. “I’ll go get the books from the trunk.” 

Dean watched her go and called after her, “Ask Rebecca to order us some pizza while you’re at it.”

*

Jess and Dean were standing outside the yellow line of caution tape watching an Asian man with a hell of a bump on his head being loaded into a cop car. 

“He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her.”

Jess glanced fleetingly at the jogger standing next to her then shared a speaking look with Dean. 

“You check around back,” he murmured under his breath. “I’ll go talk to the cops.”

There wasn’t much to see at the back of the house. The trash cans didn’t yield anything interesting and it wasn’t like there was a neon sign with an arrow flashing “monster went that’a way”. There was however, an almost unnoticeable smear of blood on the hand railing down the steps from the backdoor. 

“So get this.” Dean jogged up grabbing Jess’s attention from trying to find any other evidence of a getaway. 

“Just talked to one of the cops, he was first on the scene. Apparently the husband got home from a business trip early. Got into the house, saw his wife tied up and beaten and a dude that looked just like him wearing his clothes.” 

Jess felt an uneasy twist in her stomach. “Our kinda case, huh?”

“Definitely our kind of case.” Dean nodded seeming suddenly happier with the entire situation. Jess would have been perturbed by that if she wasn’t already trying to figure out what they should do next. 

“Look over here. I found some blood on the railing.” She pointed out the smear. “I think he came out the backdoor.”

Dean examined the blood and immediately found another streak a couple yards away. “The trail ends and as far as I know none of witnesses said they saw the husband running out the back.” 

“Where’d it go then?” She glanced around trying to dig up some kind of clue from her mind. 

“My guess is down.” 

Jess looked where Dean was pointing and immediately didn’t like where this was going at all.

Dean had the weapons locker open and was trading out the lead bullets in the clips of their guns for silver. 

Jess took the clip from him when he was done sliding the last bullet in and snapped the clip into Sam’s gun. 

“What has eyes that flash on camera, can make itself look like anyone, and tends to live down in the sewers?” She waited for Dean to close up the trunk and reluctantly followed him to the closest manhole cover. 

“Dollars to a dime I’m betting it’s a shapeshifter.”

Wracking her brain, Jess came up with nothing. “I got nothing. What’s a shapeshifter?”

“Creatures that can make themselves look like pretty much anything; animals, people. Like skinwalkers can change into dogs and werewolves have the characteristics of wolves. Shapeshifters tend to look like people.”

“Right.” Jess helped Dean shift the manhole cover and followed him down ladder into the sewer with a grimace. “That’s why the silver, right?” 

“Yep.” Dean jumped the last few steps and offered her a hand. She slapped her hand in his and jumped landing her boots on the concrete with a thud. “We just gotta find its lair and hopefully we’ll find it.”

“And shoot it with silver. Double tap to the heart.” 

He flashed her a grin. “Got it in one, sweetheart.”

The sewers predictably, smelled like crap. Rancid, putrefying crap. 

“I’m never gonna get this smell out of my hair.”

Dean snorted but didn’t comment. “Keep a look out for clues.”

“Clues like the pile of goo you’re about to step in,” she responded innocently. 

Dean looked down a split second before his boot heel laded in a gelatinous puddle and cursed. He hopped on the other foot and bounced into the wall when he lost his balance. Jess failed to hide her laughter. 

Scowling, Dean straightened up off the wall. “Laugh it up.”

“It was pretty funny.” She shrugged unapologetic.

Grumbling, Dean crouched down and poked at the goo with a pocket knife. 

Jess crouched next to him and pinched her lips together trying to hide her disgust. “Do shapeshifters shed their skin?”

“That’s what I’m guessing, since that looks a hell of a lot like an ear.” 

“Oh that is so gross.”

They stood up and Dean pointed his flash light further down the tunnel. It landed on another pile of shifter skin. “Looks like we’re going that way.”

They only made it about ten yards before Dean threw a glance over his shoulder and tensed. “Jess!”

She tried to spin around, but that thing, still looking like the Asian man, punched her in the chest. Her back and head hit the sewer wall knocking the air out of her. There was an ear piercing bang as Dean shot at it making Jess’s head swim. 

“Fuck!” Dean cursed when he missed and made like he was going to run after it, but paused. 

“Jess, you okay?” 

She stumbled away from the wall blinking away the spots in her vision. She was genuinely surprised she’d kept a hold of her gun. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Go!”

“Are you sure?” He asked, but he was already stepping away. 

“Yeah. I’m right behind you, just go!” 

He took off running. Jess steadied herself with a hand on the slick concrete wall for a split second before she pushed herself off and gave chase after him. 

She couldn’t see Dean anymore, but she could hear his pounding footfalls and followed that. There was a sharp bend in the sewer and the pale light from an open manhole cover guided her up the ladder and into a public park. 

Night had fallen while they were in the sewer and she could just barely see Dean’s back as he chased the shapeshifter into the trees. Dodging around a shocked woman walking a dog and an old couple out for a stroll, Jess tried to follow them but as soon as she broke into the tree line she lost any and all sign of them. 

They were in the middle of the city so it wasn’t like she could just keep running around with her gun out in plain sight and the copse of trees wasn’t large enough to get lost in much less provide adequate cover. She shoved her gun in her side holster and jogged out onto the street trying to decide which way they could have gone. 

It was like they’d just disappeared and Jess cursed under her breath. 

“Fine backup I am,” she muttered derisively as she started a quick pace down the street back toward the Impala. “Can’t even watch my own back, much less Dean’s.”

One of the first days on the road, Dean had drilled into her the rules for if they got separated. 

Go to the first motel in the phone book and look for the name Jim Rockford. 

Or go back to the Impala. Always back to the Impala.

Jess cursed under her breath some more and took a right turn back onto the street of the second arrest that morning. To the back alley where they’d parked the Impala. 

Despite her frustration with herself, the sight of the shining black muscle car in the shadow of a streetlamp was a weight of relief and comfort. It hadn’t taken her long on the road to figure out that the motels were a place to sleep but Dean’s car was home. 

She let out a tense breath and patted the Impala’s the trunk lightly. “Hey, Baby. Looks like we gotta wait for Dean.”

It took longer than Jess was comfortable with. She’d started getting antsy, the itch that something was wrong started up under her skin and she was a second away from hopping back down the nearest manhole cover, when Dean turned the corner and saunter over to her. 

She sighed in relief. “There you are! Did you get the shapeshifter?”

“No, I lost him.” He shrugged unconcerned. 

“Did it go back into the sewers?”

“Probably. Hey, it looked like he hit you pretty hard. Are you hurt?” Dean asked taking a step closer as his eyes slid slow and appraising down her body. 

It could almost be mistaken for his habitual visual check for injury; almost. Something in his eyes was wrong. Dean had looked her up and down a hundred times and not once had she felt naked, her skin crawling under his gaze. 

In a blink she had five feet between them, her gun out and pointed right at the shifter’s heart. 

“Where’s Dean?” she snapped.

The thing that wasn’t Dean raised its hands nonthreatening and put on a shocked expression. “Whoa. What are you doing, Jess?” 

“You are not Dean.” She was one hundred percent sure of that. It looked like Dean, moved like Dean, talked like Dean, but it sure as shit was not Dean. 

Dean had never made her feel like a piece of meat before. 

“Come on, Jessie.” It smiled harmlessly. “You know me. I’m not the shapeshifter.”

“Bullshit.” Her face hardened and her finger tightened on the trigger. “Now tell me what you did with Dean!”

Suddenly its stance loosened and the innocent look melted off its face. It sneered at her. “You know, for a hot chick, you sure are a bitch.”

She squeezed the trigger, but the shifter darted forward. It was freakishly fast, knocking her hand to the side so her shot went wide missing him by a foot. She didn’t even have time to flinch. It backhanded her, she hit her head on the edge of the Impala’s roof, and everything went black.

Coming to with the smell of the sewers in her nose was almost worse than the throbbing pain her head. The entire right side of her skull felt like one big goose egg. 

“And sleeping beauty awakens. And I must say, you sure are a beauty.” 

Jerking her head toward the voice, Jess’s heart sped up. 

The shapeshifter still looked like Dean. Even more so, now that it had time to perfect the image. It had Dean’s frayed jeans, scuffed boots, and soft flannel shirt. It had Dean’s amulet hanging around its neck. Jess wasn’t sure how she could get much angrier, but she did.

“What did you do with Dean?”

It scoffed. “Dean, Dean, Dean. Is he all you think about? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya’,” it smirked, “you’re almost all he thinks about.”

If Jess’s glare could kill, the shifter would be gone the way of the wendigo she’d roasted. 

It was unaffected. 

“Don’t be like that, baby.” It sauntered toward her and pouted. “You wanna know what he thinks of you? I mean, what he really thinks deep down?”

_Not really_. She stayed silent but her glare ratcheted up a notch. 

It planted its hands on either side of her head and leaned close breathing against her ear. She couldn’t stop from jerking away.

“He thinks you are smoking hot,” it whispered. “And that it should have been you that died instead of Sam.” 

She couldn’t stop her flinch either. 

“Oh.” It pulled back and looked at her in a mockery of shock. “You didn’t know? Yeah, good old Deano here has some mixed feelings about you.” 

It grinned and if she wasn’t trussed up like a Christmas turkey she would have done her damnedest to claw the look off its face with her fingernails. 

“Let’s see what else we can dig up, shall we?”

It put its hands to its head and closed its eyes, squeezing them tight like it was struggling. It was still well into Jess’s space, leaning over her predatorily, but she couldn’t help her sudden curiosity. Somehow it was inside Dean’s head. It didn’t just look like Dean, it was downloading his memories too. 

“Ooh!” It opened its eyes and smirked like cat that got the cream. “You know, it turns him on when you hang up your lacey panties in the bathroom. And it enrages him that his brother had to die to save you.” 

It was saying these things to hurt her, she knew that, to get in head, under her skin. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. It wasn’t like it was knew information either. That Dean resented her for living when Sam had died. It just… she’d been hoping she’d never have to hear it out loud. 

Swallowing that hurt down, Jess hardened herself to its words as it kept talking.

“I mean, why did my baby brother burn up on the ceiling? Why did I get saddled with this useless chick that acts like she’s the only one that lost something? I was the one that raised him his entire life. Dad left us alone and I had to take care of him.” It growled, getting more and more worked up. 

Jess grew more horrified as she realized what was happening. It was trying to actually become Dean. 

“He wasn’t even grateful for all I had to give up for him. He got to go to college, have friends, find a girl, but me?” It pointed at its chest indignantly. “No, I had to stay behind. I got saddled with the whiny little brother and now I’m saddled with you. A worthless piece of shit that can’t even take care of herself.”

Like the flip of a switch it was calm again almost detached as it looked her up and down again. “You know, when he saw you standing there in that tight little Smurfs t-shirt and those tiny little panties, he totally would have banged you.”

Without another word it turned around and hefted a heavy duffle bag over its shoulder. The bag clanked like it was filled with solid iron chains. It started walking away completely ignoring Jess. 

“Where are you going?” she called trying to think of anything that would keep it there and not out and about doing God knows what wearing Dean’s face. 

“I’m going to pay little Rebecca a visit.” It glanced over its shoulder and grinned evilly. “But don’t worry, baby. I’ll be seeing you again. After all, gotta save the best for last.”

A shiver of fear raced up Jess’s spine and she watched as it disappeared down the tunnel, its footsteps fading away a moment later. 

“Great.” Jess’s voice hitched and she dropped her head back against the iron support she was tied to. 

Rebecca was in trouble, Dean was God only knew where, and Jess was tied up tight enough to star getting rope burn. She wasted about two minutes on despair and panic before she shoved it all down and tried to figure out what to do next. The past weeks on the road, if Jess had learned anything, it was that Dean knew what to do in almost any situation. So she had to ask herself…

What would Dean do?

“Get the hell out of these ropes, that’s what Dean would do.” 

The shifter had taken her knife, and the ropes were too tight to just shimmy out of, so Jess was going to have to improvise. Feeling around the steel girder she was lashed to she ran her fingers over the rough edges, scraping her skin. She wiggled her tied wrists up and down against it testing and nodded to herself. Good enough. 

It was slow work and she’d been sawing at the ropes around her wrists for ten minutes before a muffled groan from somewhere behind her interrupted the quiet. 

“Fuck, my head.” 

Jess’s heart sped up and she couldn’t help the smile spreading on her face. 

“Dean?” she called hopefully, craning her neck trying to look behind her. 

“Jess?”

“Oh, thank God.” She collapsed in relief. Suddenly things didn’t seem quite so dire. 

There was the sound of shuffling like something heavy and cloth hitting the floor. “Jess, are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

She blinked away the sting in her eyes at the sound of genuine concern in his voice. “I’m okay. It just slammed my head into the Impala, tied me up, and then monologued evilly for ten minutes.” 

He let out a strained chuckle. “Don’t you just love a good evil monologue?”

“Eh, I gave it a six out of ten.” 

Dean’s laughter echoed in the tunnel and Jess grinned. God, it was good to know he was there, that she wasn’t alone. 

“My ropes are pretty tight. How are you at getting loose?”

She wiggled her wrists feeling more give in the binds. “I think I’ve almost got my hands free.” 

“Good, good. Keep working on it.” 

Rubbing her wrists up and down on the girder, Jess bit her lip in concentration. “Dean, it turned into you and went back to Rebecca’s.”

“Shit.” 

“Yeah. We gotta stop it.” 

“Well, we gotta get out of here first,” he replied wryly. “Let’s work on that.”

It didn’t take very long, and finally Jess was freeing Dean from his ropes. The first thing he did after standing up was cradle her head gently in both hands feeling through her hair for tender places. Satisfied her skull wasn’t cracked, he ran his hands down her neck and over her arms checking for any other injuries. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He looked her in the eyes intently.

Her throat felt tight and she nodded, rasping, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” 

He let her go and stepped away. “Come on, we got a face stealing freak to gank.”

By the time they made it out of the sewers Dean’s face was plastered on almost every news channel in the city. Or a pretty accurate sketch of Dean’s face anyway. 

“Come on! That’s not even a good picture.”

Jess elbowed Dean in the side as she eyed the other passersby on the sidewalk. 

“It looks pretty freaking accurate to me, Dean.” She spotted a thrift store two shops down and started tugging him in that direct. 

“Come on.” She shoved him into the alley they’d just come out of. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, where are you going?”

“To get you a disguise,” she tossed over her shoulder as she jogged into the store. 

Five minutes later, Dean was wearing a sweat stained baseball cap and a pair of hipster glasses with the lenses popped out. 

“Man, I look like a tool.” He poked at his glasses sullenly. 

Jess tugged him down the sidewalk faster. “Well, a hat and glasses can only disguise so much.”

“Ha, ha. You’re freakin’ hilarious.” 

She tossed him a distracted grin. “I think so.” 

They were a block from the last crime scene when they turned a corner out of an alley and spotted the Impala parked in a shadow. 

“Baby!” Dean started to speed up, but he didn’t get ten feet before a cop car blocked the street behind the Impala. “Shit.” 

Jess’s heart started to pound and they both turned to try and jet the other way, but a screeching of tires and another cop car jerked to a stop blocking the way again. 

“Crap!” Dean looked like he was about to try and make a run for Baby anyway and Jess felt a well of panic making her hands shake. 

“Dean.” She snagged his arm and jerked him back before he could try it. “Dean, you have to go.”

“What?” He looked at her incredulously. “No, I’m not leaving you here.”

“It’s okay.” She darted her eyes between the cop cars and her heart sped up as the doors opened. “They can’t do anything to me. Just get out of here and find the shapeshifter.”

Dean bit his lip, conflicted, then a cop started yelling at them. 

“Freeze! Police! Put your hands up!”

Jess gave him a shove toward the wooden privacy fence. “I’m serious, Dean! Go before they arrest you for attempted murder.”

“Fuck!” He sent one last baleful look at the cops closing in on them then took a running jump up onto the fence and threw a leg over to the other side. He paused and scowled back down at her. “Jess, if you-”

“Jesus Christ! Just go! I’ll meet you at Rebecca’s tomorrow. Just-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean huffed unhappily, but dropped down the other side of the fence and disappeared. 

Jess felt some of her panic drain away, but her tension didn’t. She’d never been arrested before. And no, she didn’t count that time she got caught tee-peeing the assistant principal’s house. The cop had just given her a stern talking-to and drove her home.

“Put your hands on your head!” 

“Okay. Okay.” Her hands were shaking as she put them on her head and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. “I’m unarmed!” she shouted hoping they’d stop yelling at her. It wasn’t doing anything good for the ball of nauseous tension in her gut.

One of the cops finally made it to her and yanked her arms behind her back and cuffed them none too gentry. She was roughly dragged toward a cruiser and shoved her into the back. At least they made sure to keep her head from smacking on the car. She didn’t know how many more head injuries she could take before she got permanent brain damage. 

When they got to the police station an EMT checked her over cataloguing the massive bruise on her cheek where the shifter backhanded her, the giant goose egg from her head impacting with the Impala, and the rope burns on her wrists. The EMT kept asking really leading questions about any other injuries she might have, and Jess had to bite her tongue to keep from bursting out indignantly at the implied besmirching of Dean’s honor. 

She knew the drill though. It was impossible to live with Sam and not soak up some kind of knowledge of how the legal system worked. They couldn’t hold her if she didn’t talk. They didn’t have any evidence that she was implicit in any of Dean’s supposed crimes and her injuries seemed to be working in her favor. 

Though not in Dean’s.

“We can protect you,” the lady cop said sitting across from her in the interrogation -excuse me- interview room. “We know Dean Winchester is a dangerous man. If he’s threatening you, forcing you, just answer our questions so we can put him away.” 

She stayed stonily silent. Not one word would escape her lips, because no matter what she said they wouldn’t believe her and the chances of implicating herself or Dean was too great. 

“Did he give you that bruise?” The cop’s eyes were all sympathy and concern.

Jess kept her eyes resolutely on the two way mirror behind her shoulder. Images of the shifter wearing Dean’s face flashed through her mind, but she kept her expression as blank as possible. 

“You have to work with us, Jessica. Dean was found beating and torturing your friend. Tell us what you know and we’ll make sure he can never hurt another woman again.”

Dean wouldn’t hurt a woman. Unless the woman hurt him first, that is. The memory of Dean practically dropkicking Bloody Mary into a wall of mirrors almost made her smile. 

“Your boyfriend, Sam, he was Dean’s brother, right?” the cop asked peering into her eyes watching for any twitch or flinch. She almost got one. “What did Dean say to convince you to leave Palo Alto with him? Or did he force you to leave? Threaten you, threaten your family?”

They’d done their homework. Suddenly Jess wondered if they’d already tried to contact her parents. If her mom had told them everything Jess had told her about Dean. Still, she didn’t break. She called to mind every single one of Dean’s lessons in hustling, in controlling your reactions, in running a con. She called to mind what her dad had taught her about hiding her tells in poker.

The only reaction the cop got with her words was steady breathing and an unwavering stare at the mirror behind her. 

“I am trying to help you here, Jessica.”

No, Jess thought, you really aren’t.

They kept her until just after one in the afternoon the next day. She hadn’t said a single word except to ask for the bathroom. They didn’t have any evidence she was involved in any alleged crimes and she hadn’t given them any plausible reason to keep her. 

She could tell the lady cop was pissed as she watched Jess walk out of the police station free and clear.

Jess didn’t know where Dean was, who the shifter looked like now or how they were going to find it, but she knew Dean was supposed to meet her at Rebecca’s at some point today. Plus she actually really wanted to check on her friend. 

Looking down at her stained t-shirt and patting at her stiff somewhat crunchy hair, she knew she couldn’t really show up at Rebecca’s door like that. 

Since their bags were in the Impala and the shifter presumably had the Impala she would have to improvise. A trip into a clothes store to get a clean t-shirt with what little money she had in her pockets and a really haphazard scrub down in a public restroom later, Jess was making her way back to Rebecca’s upper class neighborhood. 

She knocked on the door and prayed Rebecca would let her in. 

Unfortunately, she was in luck.

“Did you know that Dean actually tried to convince me some kind of creature framed my brother for murder?”

Wow, so the shifter really was all kinds of messed up. Not only did it frame Dean for attempted murder but it made him sound like a complete nut job too. That’s just great.

“I know it sounds completely crazy, but you have to believe me, Rebecca,” Jess implored as she stood across the kitchen island from her friend. “The shapeshifter is real. It framed Zack and it framed Dean. Dean would never have hurt you.”

Rebecca’s regarded her dubiously and pushed away from the island to walk around it to the fridge next to Jess. 

“Yeah? And how do you kill one of these -uh- shapeshifters?” 

Jess glanced behind her at Rebecca and took the offered beer with a wan smile. “Silver bullet to the heart.”

“Now, I know you’re both crazy.”

A chill went up Jess’s spine. She knew that tone of voice. 

She tried to spin around, but a glass bottle broke over her head and for the second time in twenty-four hours Jess woke up tied down. This time to a kitchen chair in Rebecca’s living room. 

Groaning, Jess tried to roll her head into an upright position, but the pounding got worse. It felt like her brain was trying to beat its way out of her skull. 

“You know, I thought it would be Deano that showed up, but when I saw you, mh! I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise.”

Her breath hitched and she forced her eyes open to see the shifter standing in front of her with a smirk on its face and a tumbler of whiskey in its hand. 

It looked like Dean again and with her vaguely double vision Jess could just make out a pile of shifter goo on the floor behind it. She definitely had a concussion and that boded all kinds of ill. 

The shifter set the whiskey down and loomed over her. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” It leaned closer and sniffed her. “And you smell so good.”

“Get the hell away from me.” 

It smirked again, amused, and moved away stroking its fingers over a kitchen knife it had stabbed into the end table next to her. 

“I’m going to have fun cutting you up. Or Dean will,” it corrected. It sounded like it was talking about the weather. 

“You,” she growled, “are not Dean.”

“But I’ll be wearing Dean’s face. And knowing that the last thing you see will be him is just the icing on the cake.”

Yanking the knife from the table the shifter leaned in close its eyes glinting evilly. 

“Where should I start first?” It asked, tapping the tip of the knife against the top of her breast. “Here?” It moved the knife to her thigh and pressed down through her jeans to cut into her flesh. “Or here? They’re both my favorite.”

She was so done with this. She slammed her forehead into the shifter’s face and its nose cracked with the impact. Her vision swam and head ached, but it was so worth it.

“Fuck!” It jolted away from her and pressed a hand to its nose. It came away bloody. “You bitch.”

“Touch me again, I dare you.” She grinned, all teeth.

Its expression was thunderous and it punched her full on in the face. Her head snapped back and Jess was pretty sure at this point that by the time Dean finally showed up, she wouldn’t have much of a brain left. 

“I don’t think you’ll be laughing anymore when I cut up that pretty little face of yours.” It sneered, tightened its grip on the knife and took a step toward her. 

Jess sucked a breath in and yanked at her ropes hard enough to make the chair creak. The shifter just raised the knife and grinned. 

“Hey!”

The shifter spun around and Jess let out a whimper of relief when she saw Dean standing in the doorway, gun ready, deadly purpose in his eyes. 

The shifter dropped the knife and tried to skitter away to get behind Jess, but Dean squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession. It jerked violently hit the bookshelf then dropped to the floor and went still. 

Jess’s ears rang with the deafening gunshots, but she forgot about it the instant Dean rushed to her and started slicing the ropes. 

“Jess, I’m so sorry.” He glanced up into her eyes, painful regret in his gaze. 

The ropes fell away and Jess grabbed Dean’s arms digging her fingers in. “Shut up, Dean. You came and killed it. You saved me again. That’s all I care about.”

“You should have never been in this situation to begin with,” he growled wrapping his hands around her elbows and pulling her to her feet. 

“Fuck you.” She hissed when the cut on her thigh stung and her head swam with dizziness. “I knew what I was getting into.”

He huffed at her, but relented, wrapping an arm around her waist keeping her steady. “Yeah, alright. Guess some of the crazy rubbed off.” 

She gave a strained chuckle. “Think I was pretty crazy already.” 

“Oh my God, Jess! Are you alright?” 

Jess turned her had gingerly toward Rebecca standing in the doorway hair caked with unmentionables and clothes stained beyond repair. She tried to smile. 

“I’m okay. It’s just a little concussion, nothing to worry about.” 

Dean snorted and felt around her head with light fingers. “Well, your hard head isn’t cracked so I think you’ll live.” 

Rebecca didn’t look too reassured, but came over and took some of Jess’s weight on her other side. Her eyes flicked toward the dead shifter sprawled on her living room floor. “Is it dead?”

Looking over at the body, Dean made sure Jess was steady in Rebecca’s hold then stalked toward the monster wearing his face. He crouched down and wrapped a hand around the bull’s head amulet the thing had stolen from him and jerked it off its neck. 

“Yeah,” he said with dark satisfaction in his eyes. “It’s dead.”

The cops were called. Dean Winchester was declared dead at the scene and Rebecca took the credit for shooting him when she came home to find him torturing her friend.

It was decided against Jess’s protests that she would let the EMS take her to the hospital. 

“You’ve blacked out twice today,” Dean had said while they were getting their stories straight minutes before the cops arrived. “You don’t mess around with head injuries.” 

Jess’s head checked out with a mild concussion and she was forced to stay overnight for observation. 

The case was pretty open and shut. Dean Winchester was blamed for two murders and two attempted murders and since he was already dead, the cops didn’t do much more than file the paperwork. 

Once Jess escaped the hospital the first thing she did was find Dean. Jim Rockford in the first motel in the phonebook. 

“And the doctors said your head was all good?”

Jess nodded slowly, trying not to aggravate her lingering headache. “Yep, said I was good to go.” She’d checked herself out AMA but Dean didn’t need to know that.

He regarded her dubiously, but didn’t push it. She was thankful, just slouched over to the bed furthest from the door and collapsed. 

The next morning the murderer Dean Winchester got a pauper’s burial and Jess and Dean left town. They stopped at Rebecca’s long enough to say goodbye, for the final time. Then they hopped into the Impala and sped for the state line. 

Jess stared out the window watching the scenery fly by and sighed. “I’m not gonna be able to see any of my friends again, am I?”

Dean glanced at her fleetingly, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t really need him to confirm it. Even if the answer had been different, she had already decided she wasn’t going to stay in contact any longer. Her life now wasn’t very conducive to fostering normal relationships, especially not with people that didn’t know about the things in the dark. 

“I wish things had turned out different.” 

Jess turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I wish you could have stayed at Stanford. That you could have gone back to your life.” 

“That you didn’t have to drag me along behind you?” she finished with a strained chuckle trying not to show just how much the thought hurt.

He turned his head to look her in the eyes. “No. This, not being alone, having you here with me, it’s pretty much the only thing keeping me going.” He held her gaze steadily and gave her a small but genuine smile. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The pain that had been simmering in her chest ever since the shifter had started spewing secrets at her eased. It melted away in the face of Dean’s conviction. He could lie with his body, with his words, but his eyes were unfailingly honest and Jess could see the truth in them. 

She returned his smile with one of her own, relieved and happy for the first time in days. She settled down in the passenger seat making herself comfortable. 

“So, how’s it feel to be a dead man?”

Dean chuckled. “I’m kinda pissed we had to leave. How many times am I gonna get to go to my own funeral?”

Jess raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired?”

He shrugged. “You love it.”

Yeah, she kinda did.

*

They were out of Missouri and well into Kansas when they stopped for a fill up on gas and junk food. It was another small kind of general store complete with pay-by-the-minute wi-fi and a mailbox. 

Jess looked down at the postcard in front of her. On one side it had a cliché “Greetings from St. Louis” filled with cartoonish city land marks. She turned it over and stared at the blank text box next to the address lines. Her mind was completely blank of any kind of message she should send and she still couldn’t decide whether she should even send one to begin with. 

She glanced outside where Dean was leaned against the trunk of the Impala waiting for the tank to fill up. He was dressed in his customary leather jack and biker boots, but his gaze seemed far away. He was playing with the amulet hanging around his neck, lost in thought. 

Turning back to her postcard she uncapped the pen, jotted down a quick message, slapped a stamp on it and dropped it in the mailbox. 

Dean glanced up when the door jingled as she walked back outside. “Hey, you get everything?”

“Yes, Dean. I got everything.”

She dropped the plastic bags on the floorboard of the front seat as she closed the door behind her. Dean hooked the gas hose back on the meter, screwed the gas cap back on, and walked back around to get in the driver’s seat. 

“You didn’t forget the pie, did you?”

Jess gasped and started rummaging through one of the bags frantically. 

Dean’s eyes widened. “You forgot the pie!?”

“Oh, wait. Here it is!” She pulled out a tiny individual sized pie and grinned at him. 

He scowled. “Not funny.” 

She shrugged and put the pie back in the bag. “It was kinda funny.” 

“Not even close,” he grumbled, but she could see him trying to fight down a smile. 

Jess twisted the cap on her Big Red and grinned around a big gulp. It was definitely funny. 

*

Dear Mom and Dad, Don’t believe everything you hear. Love, Jess.

*  
TBC...


	7. Brokenhearted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every hunt is different. Every hunt is tragic in its own way. Jess faces reminders of her own mortality and Dean’s old after hunt relaxation techniques. She’s pretty sure she knows which one will be more traumatizing.

Jess was pretty sure she was finally getting the hang of this hunting thing. Every monster was different and every monster needed to be killed different. It would be frustrating if it wasn’t so damn intriguing. 

Also finding out the urban legends that made you afraid of the dark as a child are real, well that was just the icing on top of the “How is this my life?” cake. Like the Hook Man, seriously, what the hell?!

“Find the hook, stop the Hook Man.” Dean smirked with a triumphant glint in his eye. 

Sure, it sounds easy when you say it like that. It is however very not easy when you have to rummage through an entire church and toss everything that even looks silver in the basement boiler. 

Even though she’d never been to confession in her life, Jess was pretty she was going to have to go next time they were in range of a Catholic church. Ransacking a church had to be a serious kind of sin. Dean of course, contradictory atheist that he was, didn’t seem bothered at all. 

Watching the Hook Man burn up from the inside and crumble to ash was pretty freaking satisfying. The adrenaline that went with a successful hunt kind of made the pants shitting terror worth it. 

They were driving away leaving Laurie to watch them go from the back of an ambulance. Dean flicked a look at Jess and murmured. 

“We can stay, if you want. Maybe get you a fake ID, enroll you in some classes.” 

Jess could tell it was tearing him up just getting the words out, but she knew the offer was genuine. She just smiled at him and shook her head. 

“Nah. I’m good here.” 

The relieved look in his eyes was worth it.

Awesome terror of trying to kill the urban legend of the Hook Man aside, it was the bugs that really got to her. 

Jess freaking hated bugs. 

She was learning that every hunt came with a tragic story. A bloody tale of a Native American massacre was no exception. Finding a mound of bones buried in worms and beetles and every other creepy crawly just drove the point home. 

Still, an innocent family was going to be eaten alive by bugs and Jess and Dean couldn’t let that happen. 

“Seriously!?” she burst out in near hysterics. “One freaking can of bug spray? That’s all we’ve got?”

Dean grimly watched the windows get blanketed in flying insects of every kind. “We work with what we got.”

Jess let out a high pitched whine. “We’re gonna die.” 

“We’ve hunted demons, ghosts, monsters, and urban legends, but now we gotta kill some bugs and we’re going to die?” Dean stared at her incredulously. 

She scowled at him petulantly. “I’m semi allergic to bees, you know.”

Of course it was right at that moment that the flue in the chimney gave way and the house was filled with an angry swarm of flying, stinging insects. 

Huddled in the attic trying to shield the family from the onslaught, Jess had never been so thankful for Dean’s mild case of pyromania. She’s pretty sure his improvised bug spray flame thrower was what gave them enough breathing room to survive. 

They saved the family, but Jess was miserable for a week straight afterward. Her face swelled up like a balloon and she couldn’t pop enough antihistamine to combat her allergic reaction to the bee stings. 

Dean was nice enough to cover his laughter as he stocked up on cortisone cream and painkillers. Still, she was never forgiving him. 

“This is all your fault.” She moaned pitifully when the bee stings flared up with her facial movement. 

“How is this my fault?” Dean demanded as he dabbed cream on her hard to reach stings. 

“Ow!” She whimpered again. “It just is.” Dean rolled his eyes and practically force fed her another couple of painkillers. 

As it was, two weeks later and Jess was still a little blotchy around the edges, but had mostly recovered from the traumatic experience. 

Recovered enough, anyway, to stumble upon a hunt as they were crossing state lines. 

“Three girls have committed suicide in the last year. All of them were young, pretty, and by all accounts happy. They were just found naked in the bathtub wrists slit to the elbow one day.” She turned the laptop around on the table so Dean could see the article. “Sounds like our kind of case.”

Dean shoved some fries in his mouth and muttered, “Worth checking out.” 

Jess wrinkled her nose and pulled the laptop back before it could get sprayed in half chewed potato. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s very unattractive.”

“What, you mean like this?” Dean smirked at her with cheeks full of food and opened his mouth wide. 

“Ugh.” Jess grimaced and looked away from the half masticated potato massacre in his mouth. “Check please!”

*

Disregarding the underwear hanging in the bathroom, hair in the drain, and the pee breaks every four hours traveling with Jessica was a lot different from traveling with Dad or Sam. The idiosyncrasies of sharing space with someone had been sorted out between them pretty early into their journey, but that wasn’t what he needed to get used to. 

No it was on hunts that Dean stumbled around trying to adjust. 

Jess was a newbie, sure, but she was a quick learner and an eager student. No matter the amount of whining and crying she did, she soaked up Dean’s lessons like a sponge. She had a different way of thinking about the cases that was surprisingly helpful. 

She was a softer touch than John, Dean, or even Sam had been. People liked to talk to her, even when she wasn’t using her feminine wiles on them. Dean had never had an easier time getting useful info out of witnesses. 

And she tempered his responses. He knew he could be abrasive and crass, but she’d elbow him, give him a look, and suddenly he was playing nice. Never thought he’d say it but the research and interview portion of the hunts wasn’t quite so mind numbing with her pushing and shoving at him. 

Teaching her the ropes was like discovering the awesomeness of hunting all over again. 

Downside, maybe, was the fact that his protective instincts were going through the roof. That in itself wasn’t new. He’d once jumped in front of an enraged black dog and got clawed all to hell to save Sammy. So that feeling of self-sacrifice was nothing new to him. It was focusing his need to protect on someone that wasn’t his little brother that was throwing him off. 

From the moment he’d grabbed Jess up into his arms and pulled her from the fire, he vowed to protect her from anything and everything. It was a compulsion but he wasn’t worried about that. What caught him off guard was the sheer overwhelming force of the feeling inside him. 

Seeing her tied up about to be tortured by the shapeshifter wearing his face had nearly made his heart stop. Dean didn’t think he was a particularly violent man, but he’d wanted to make that bastard’s death slow and painful.

He should probably be more concerned about that, but he didn’t really care. Jess was safe, he was off the police radar, and the shifter was dead and gone. Win, win; violent urges aside. 

Being captured and almost tortured by a thing that looked like your partner was traumatic for even the most experienced hunters. Dean was expecting Jess to shy away from his touch, to be standoffish for a while, to take some time to get used to him again. 

When he tried to tell her that they could take some time off to recover he was not expecting her to look at him like he was being ridiculous. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Dean,” she’d said and went back to slurping at her gas station slushy. 

“Uh… What do you-”

“I knew it wasn’t you the moment I saw it.” She shrugged and twirled the straw around in the bright red icy slush making that annoying plastic on plastic squeak against the lid. 

“How did you know?” he asked bewildered. The shifter had a mind-meld to his freaking brain. It could have fooled his own father. 

She just gave him an unimpressed look. “You never perved on me like that.”

That exactly a calming implication, but Jess seemed to think the matter was closed so he just shrugged and went back to driving. He tried not to imagine the hundreds of different ways he wanted to torture the shifter for even daring to look at Jess. 

Her freakishly well-adjusted acceptance of a normally traumatizing hunt aside, she just kept on surprising him. 

“Come on, Dean.” She grabbed his arm and tried to yank him up from lounging on the bed. 

“What?” He went limp and she almost toppled on top of him. He tried not to laugh at her scowl. “Where are we going?”

“To the tattoo parlor we passed on the way in.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow at her and finally let himself be tugged to his feet. “Why, Jessica. I didn’t know you had a thing for ink?”

She rolled her eyes at him and tossed his jacket at his face. “I’m not getting a tattoo, Dean. I’m getting some piercings.” 

Dean followed her out to the car, wide eyed and trying not to imagine all the places you could get piercings and just how hot that was.

If he hadn’t been trying to suppress his imagination so hard he might have been disappointed once they got there. 

Okay, so he was a little disappointed. 

“Again, why did you suddenly decide to get your ears pierced?” He watched the tatted up, two hundred and fifty pound, bearded tattoo artist swab Jess’s earlobes with alcohol. 

“So I can wear silver studs and you’ll know it’s me.” 

Dean tore his eyes away from the piercing gun to meet Jess’s soft gaze. Something warm and fluffy squirmed in his stomach. 

“You’d let some dude stick you with needles just so I can always tell it’s you?” His throat didn’t feel tight, nope, it did not. 

Jess smiled at him. “Yeah, I would.” 

The tattoo artist slipped the gun over her earlobe. “Get ready.” 

Jess crunched up her face and snatched at Dean’s hand squeezing it tightly. She said in a rush, “Plus, I’ve always wanted to, but my dad wouldn’t let me. Eek!”

The gun made a _ker-chunck_ sound and Jess whimpered. Dean felt a little light headed. 

“Wow, that’s- I didn’t realize that would be so…”

“You faint on me, Dean Winchester, and I’ll never let you forget it.”

Jess decided to go for broke and got three piercings in each earlobe. As requested the tattoo artist put sterling silver balls in each hole. 

In less than an hour they were up at the counter, Jess shelling out payment and the tattoo artist handing over care instructions. 

She shook her head in amazement. “I can’t believe you. You look at dead bodies on an almost daily basis, but you get squeamish about piercings?”

Dean shifted embarrassed and muttered under his breath. “Shuddup.” 

And of course, as if there weren’t enough chick-flick moments to go around, Jess made him pull over on the way back to the motel.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” She jumped out of the car and darted inside the jewelry store she’d spotted. 

Dean waited for thirty minutes in the car twiddling his thumbs with the radio playing the local classic rock station. When Jess finally hopped back in she had a small bag in her hands and a pleased smile on her face. 

He eyed her suspiciously. “What did you get?”

“I’ll show you when we get back to the motel.” She kept both hands on the bag the rest of the drive. 

They got back to the motel and Dean was ready to forget about the bag. He grabbed a beer popped the top with his ring and flopped down on one of the kitchen chairs, but Jess distracted him from his car magazine by shoving the jewelry store bag in his face. 

He eyed it warily, but took it from her and peeked inside. “Hearts and stars earrings?”

“Not that.” She snatched the little baggy of earrings away with a huff. “The other thing.”

Dean looked back in the bag and slowly pulled out a long white box. He opened it and his mind went quiet. 

Inside the box was a masculine, burnished sterling silver chain. He snapped his eyes up at her uncomprehending. 

Her expression was serious, determined. “The shifter had your amulet,” she said. “That won’t happen again.”

Looking back down at the chain, Dean lifted it from the box and opened the thick clasp. Slowly, with numb fingers he slipped his amulet off its leather cord and slid in onto the chain. Dropping the necklace over his head the amulet rested against his sternum almost exactly where it had before. The new chain felt heavier, more solid than the thinning leather cord. The change did nothing to diminish the comfort and security he felt with the weight around his neck. 

Slowly standing up on shaky legs, Dean reached out, wrapped a callused hand around the back of Jess’s neck and pulled her toward him. 

She came easily and fisted her hands in his shirt at his waist. Dean pressed trembling lips to her forehead and rasped, “Thank you.”

Jess sighed and gave him a tremulous smile. “No problem. Anytime.” 

He breathed out a strained chuckle, the mood lightened and he shook her neck playfully. “You’re something else.” 

Jess smirked and shrugged. “I try.” 

Prevalence of unapologetic chick-flick moments aside, Jess was fun to have on a hunt. She had a lighthearted teasing sense of humor and her deadpan face was epic. 

The last two hunts, an urban legend of the Hook Man and a deadly Native American curse respectively, were fun in a way hunting hadn’t been since Sam had left for college. The fact that Jessica never seemed to lose her innocent incredulity at the weird crap they encountered was never not going to be endlessly entertaining. 

She brought a spark back into hunting for him and he was thankful. What he’d told her in the car on their mad dash away from St. Louis was true. What he didn’t say was if it hadn’t been for her, he would have found a motel somewhere and blown his brains out. 

Dean didn’t think she truly got the full meaning of his words to her, and if he had his way she never would. That wasn’t something he wanted spoken of outside his own head. 

Now, two weeks after Dean had to carefully hide his laughter at Jess swelling up like a balloon from a couple of bug bites, they were sitting in a diner eating lunch. Jess was typing away at the computer looking to find them another hunt. 

Girls slitting their wrists and killing themselves for no reason wasn’t a lot to go on. They’d investigated for less. 

“Sounds like a case. Let’s check it out.” 

*

Staring down at the body of a beautiful young girl with everything to live for was harder than any of the other dead bodies Jess had seen so far. She felt inexplicably sad. The girls weren’t any older than her, all in good colleges with good prospects. And they’d been snuffed out just like that.

“Judging by the length and depth of the lacerations on the bodies, they bled out fairly quickly,” the coroner said, after he’d yanked the drawer open and flipped the sheet over to expose Jenny Walden’s face. “The water in the bathtub kept the wounds from clotting and slowing down their deaths.” 

Dean, as always, seemed completely unaffected. “Was there any signs of struggle? Maybe someone made them do it?”

He had blue plastic gloves on and he turned Jenny’s arm over to expose the gaping slit down the inside of her forearm. Jess felt her stomach twist at the sight, she could see tendon and bone the cuts were so deep. 

“Like I told the detectives, Agent,” the coroner sounded annoyed, “they are clearly suicides.” 

Dean looked back at him and flashed him a fake smile. “Clearly.”

They made the coroner give them a copy of his autopsy reports before they got back in the car and drove back to the motel. 

Jess was glad she didn’t have to look at anymore dead girls. It reminded her of her own mortality; of just how close she’d come to ending up on a cold impersonal slab like them. 

“So, Jenny Walden, Marissa May, and Alice Corbin.” Dean shed his FBI jacket and started rolling up his sleeves. “All perfectly happy, living charmed lives, and then suddenly they show up in their bathtubs with ventilated wrists.” 

Jess didn’t appreciate Dean’s flippant recap. 

“What are you thinking?” Jess asked as she opened up the laptop and folded her legs underneath her. She’d already kicked off her fed boots the moment they got in the door. 

“Could just be suicides,” Dean made the obligatory suggestion. “I hear that kind of thing’s catching.” 

She ignored that last part. “But you don’t think so.” 

“Yeah, not really,” he agreed. “Doesn’t feel right.” 

Jess bit her lip reluctant to ask. “Do you want to interview the families, or should I?”

Dean smirked at her. “Oh, that’s all you, darlin’.”

“Right.” She sighed and got up to grab a pair of jeans. “I’ll talk to Marissa’s parents first.” She really didn’t want to go “interview” grieving family members.

Dean started unbuttoning his dress shirt to change into his regular clothes. “I’ll hit up Jenny’s apartment and check for EMF. It’s closer.”

Dean dropped Jess off at the May’s and continued on to Jenny’s apartment. Staring up at the regular two story family home complete with a small flower garden in the front yard Jess took a deep breath. 

“Come on, Jess,” she muttered under her breath trying to psych herself up to be a professional. “You can do this.”

She rang the doorbell and immediately her palms turned sweaty. Okay, she’d actually never done an interview without Dean standing next to her leading the way, so sue her if she was nervous. A million and one things could go wrong here. They could see right through her cover, she could totally blow it by acting like the nervous newbie that she was. She could ask all the wrong questions and completely fail to get potentially lifesaving information. 

She also didn’t want to get a glimpse into what her family would have looked like had Sam not acted like a self-sacrificing jerk and traded his life for hers. Her family would have never known how she really died, just like this family would likely never know that their daughter hadn’t actually killed herself. 

The door opened and Mrs. May stared at her with bloodshot weary eyes. “Can I help you?”

Jess stuttered only a little bit. “Hi, Mrs. May. I uh-I worked with your daughter, Marissa, at the library.” 

Mrs. May just looked distantly polite. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I heard about what happened and I wanted to come by and give my condolences.” She wanted to just break down and spill the beans, but it would screw up her investigation and it wouldn’t help the Mays’ grief. 

There was a long moment where Mrs. May just looked at her then she blinked and seemed to come back to herself. “Yes, of course. Would you like to come on?”

Jess smiled politely. “Yes, please.”

The Mays’ home was covered in photographs and the obligatory out of date furniture that every family home seemed to have; a couch with mildly ugly upholstery and a worn in sag in the middle. Jess took a seat and fleetingly worried she wouldn’t be able to get back up again. 

“You said you worked with Marissa?” Mrs. May came back from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee and Jess took hers with a small smile. She wasn’t planning on drinking it, but her mother had beaten politeness into her so she took it without protest. 

“Yes, we didn’t have shifts together much, but we talked a few times.” 

Keep it vague, Jess could hear Dean’s voice in her head. Let them fill in the blanks.

“That’s nice.” Mrs. May nodded absently, her eyes drawn like a magnet to the pictures of her daughter on the mantel. 

Jess bit her lip. “I’m sorry for asking, but could you tell me, was there any hint that Marissa was…?”

“No.” Mrs. May shook her head dragging her eyes reluctantly away from the picture of her smiling daughter. “No, my Marissa was happy. She’d just gotten her first apartment.” She smiled fleetingly. “She was so excited to get her own place.”

“Did she like her apartment?” New apartment; could be something. 

“Oh yes.” Mrs. May nodded. “She complained the AC was on the fritz and the lights flickered every once in a while, but other than that, she loved it.”

Wow, okay, that sounded like a vengeful spirit. Two out of three, it ticked the boxes. Jess was wary. Was it really that easy?

She looked over at the pictures on the mantel and spotted a recent one with Marissa and a guy, their arms wrapped around each other smiling. 

“I’m, um, I’m sure her boyfriend is taking it hard too.”

There was a flicker and Mrs. May’s face darkened. “I wouldn’t know.” 

Blinking in surprise, Jess pressed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d broken up.”

“Yes, well.” Mrs. May huffed then her face just crumpled. “She loved Ben so much. It broke her heart when she found out he cheated on her. They broke up just before she moved into her apartment.”

That kinda ticked a box under plain old suicide, but Jess trusted Dean’s gut and she was starting to trust hers too. It was telling her there was more to it.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely. 

After that Mrs. May didn’t seem to want to discuss her daughter’s death anymore so Jess quickly excused herself and left. 

On the sidewalk heading toward the bus stop, Jess took stock of her findings. Marissa was in a new apartment, the AC supposedly didn’t work and the lights flickered. She’d also just broken up with her cheating boyfriend. The first two sounded like a ghost and the third sounded like a suicide. 

She’d have to talk to Jenny Walden’s and Alice Corbin’s families to really figure out what was going on, but she was putting her money on Casper the not so friendly ghost. 

Three hours later, Jess finally made her way back to their motel room with enough leads that she felt confident that she could figure out what the monster of the week is. 

Jenny Walden’s father was dark and brooding and deeply entrenched in the anger stage of grief. If Jess was telling the truth, he kind of scared her. It was the look in his eyes. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her fledgling instincts urged her to speed up the interview as quick as possible and get out of there. 

Rush job, regardless, Jess walked out of his house with his words echoing in her mind. 

“She was rejected from the fine arts program in her college.” Mr. Walden had sneered. “They said her art didn’t have any feeling in it. Said she wasn’t good enough. She put her heart and soul into everything she did. When she got that damn rejection, it broke her heart.”

Jess’s talk with Alice’s parent went better if more awkward. Two sentences in talking about her daughter, Mrs. Corbin burst into tears and rushed from the room. 

Mr. Corbin had just watched after his wife sadly. “I’m sorry. My wife is taking this hard.” He sighed. “Alice was real close with her cousin. She needs a kidney transplant and Alice wanted to donate. When we got the results that she wasn’t a match it broke her heart.”

It broke her heart. 

Jess had that phrase rolling around in her head. It gnawed at her and she knew it was what tied these three girls together. 

That was what they had in common. They each had their hearts broken by one thing or another. She was convinced that what they were hunting was the ghost of a young woman, with everything going for her, except her broken heart. 

Figuring that out was the easy part. Figuring out who exactly the ghost is was going to be the hard part. 

The city wasn’t small, a little over three hundred thousand people. Even with about half of the deceased crossed off their list on a count of wrong sex it was still a lot of suspects to wade through. 

Determined to keep anymore girls from showing up bled out in their bathtubs, Jess snapped open the laptop and got to searching. 

She’d been at it, scanning through obituaries for about forty minutes when Dean walked in the door. 

“So all three apartments had some major EMF going on in the bathroom.” He tossed his jacket on his bed, pulled a beer from the room’s mini-fridge, and flopped himself down in the chair across from her. “We definitely have an angry spirit on our hands.” 

Jess gave him a dirty look when he tossed the bottle cap in the sink. He ignored it with a crooked smirk. 

“What did you find out from the families?”

“Well, other than that I really hate interviews,” she drawled, “I figured out why the spirit picked these particular girls.”

He waved a hand at her to go on. 

“They all had their hearts broken.”

He frowned. “What, like asshole boyfriends?”

She shook her head, her eyes going back to scanning down the frustratingly long list of obits. “Marissa was the only one with an asshole boyfriend. Jenny got rejected from a fine arts bachelor’s program and Alice wasn’t a match for her cousin’s kidney transplant.”

Dean thought on that through a long pull of his beer. “That makes finding our ghost harder.”

“You’re telling me.” Jess rubbed at her eyes. They were starting to burn from staring at the computer screen. “I’ve been searching through every single obit the local paper loaded on the web and I still haven’t found anything.”

“Obits usually only go back about fifteen years on the web.” He grimaced. “We’re gonna have to go to the library.”

“If the ghost has been dead for that long why is it only killing people now?”

Dean shrugged. “Depends. Maybe its grave was messed with, maybe its home was torn down, maybe whoever broke their heart died or got married or something. Sometimes you can never tell.” 

Jess wrinkled her nose not liking the uncertainty. She liked having hard facts, dependable patterns. The uniqueness of each hunt both intrigued and frustrated her. 

“Are we gonna go now?”

“Nah.” Dean scooted his chair back and propped his dirty boots up on the corner of the table. “We’ll go in the morning. Library’s probably closed by now anyway.”

Jess reached across the table and smacked Dean’s boots back to the floor. “You’re getting dirt everywhere. And it’s rude.”

“What? It’s just us. Not like I gotta worry about offending you or whatever.” He snorted, but leaned down and started untying his boots anyway. 

“Oh, I’m very offended.” Jess stuck her nose in the air. “You’ve offended my very sensibilities.”

Dean’s lips turned up in amusement as he tossed his boots toward his duffle sitting on the floor. “You want pizza for dinner. I’m feeling some pizza for dinner.”

They ordered pizza and Dean laughed when the delivery boy stammered and couldn’t lifted his eyes higher than the neckline of Jess’s Princess Peach t-shirt. 

“You’re just bringing all the boys to yard, aren’t you, Jessie?” 

“I’m going to forget you ever said that and not smother you in your sleep.” 

He just laughed some more. 

They sprawled out on their beds each with a large pizza box sitting in their laps. 

Dean lifted the lid on his and grimaced. “Gross. You ordered anchovies? And Pineapple!?”

Jess peered into her box and found a meat lover’s. “I think we switched boxes. Here, trade.”

He still looked disgusted and hurriedly swapped pizza boxes. “I can’t believe you actually eat that.”

Jess sniffed haughtily at him and bit into a steaming slice with relish. “Shut up. This is delicious.” 

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” 

They spent the next few hours watching a Dirty Harry marathon. They were halfway through the second movie before Jess realized the echo she was hearing was actually Dean murmuring every single line under his breath. 

“Exactly how many times have you watched these movies?” she asked bewildered. 

Dean blushed and hunched over his pizza. “It’s Clint Eastwood.” 

Apparently Dean thought that was all the explanation needed.

Jess turned her eyes back to the tv to see Clint Eastwood corner a punk and wave his .44 Magnum in his face. 

“Yeah, okay. I can see that.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the tiny smile on Dean’s lips. She just smiled too and turned the rest of her attention back on the movie. 

*

The next morning Jess was the one that had to drag Dean out of bed. It was cold in their motel room and Dean had burrowed so far under the covers she was actually surprised he could breathe under there. 

Reluctantly he climbed out of his nest and they both jumped in the car driving to the nearest public library. And then they promptly spent two hours looking at microfiche and fruitlessly searching the computer catalogue. 

Around hour one and a half, Jess pulled her face away from the microfiche machine and had to swallow thickly. 

“You okay?”

Jess glanced at Dean where he was kicked back in a chair searching through an old death registry. 

“Yeah, just dizzy.” 

“Here,” he stood up and tugged her away from the machine. “We’ll trade off. If you look at that too long you’ll actually get nauseous.” 

She let him guide her to his chair and push her down to sit. “How’d you find that out?”

The corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes glinted with mischief. “First time on the machine, Sam actually threw up. We got kicked out of the library. Apparently blowing chunks on the equipment is frowned upon.”

Jess let out a small chuckle and smiled. The image of an embarrassed preteen Sam getting kicked out of a library was funny. During finals he’d practically lived in the library. She could imagine how horrified he would have been if he got banned. 

They worked for another hour and forty minutes before Dean snapped his fingers grinning. “Yahtzee.”

“You found it?” Jess stood up and went over to look at the screen. “Bethany Hartford?”

“Yeah. Chick died in 1894. Article says she was a socialite, rich, beautiful, rolling in marriage proposals. Had pretty much everything going for her. Then her fiancé leaves her for a school teacher. The day of the wedding the maid found her in the bathtub with her wrists slit.” He turned and looked at Jess triumphantly. “She left a note. Said her fiancé ‘broke her heart’.”

Jess felt a flicker of sympathy then she remembered Jenny and Marissa and Alice. The sympathy died quickly.

“That was over a hundred years ago.” Jess turned back to Dean. “Why is she just killing now?”

They looked to see if there were any other instances of suicide by bathtub and slit wrists, but they found nothing. It was just in the last month that people started dying. 

“Let’s find out.” Dean quickly jotted down the address for Bethany Hartford’s old house and gravesite. They left the library without putting away the books or microfiche. 

Jess felt a little guilty for that, but she consoled herself with the thought that people were dying and time was of the essence. Still didn’t stop her avoiding the scowling librarian’s eyes on the way out. 

Bethany Hartford’s house had obviously once been a grand Victorian. Now it was unkempt with obvious signs of neglect. It was also visibly under renovation. 

“Looks like the work on Bethany’s house was what disturbed her.” Jess peered out the window watching various workmen crawl around the house painting the new siding and shingling a new roof. 

Dean parked across the street and climbed out. “Could be. Let’s go talk to the contractor.”

The site manager was surprisingly helpful. They’d been doing work on the house for four and a half months apparently it’d been in pretty bad shape. A month ago the new owners decided it was time to remodel the bathroom too. They started from scratch, ripped the entire thing out. Including the original claw foot tub. 

“That’s a new one.” 

Jess looked over at him curiously as they walked back to the car. “I thought you said remodeling the ghost’s house was a pretty common disturbance.” 

“It wasn’t the house remodel that pissed her off,” Dean said peeling away from the curb and speeding down the road. “It was the getting rid of the tub.” He grinned at her cheekily. “Never had a ghost attached to a bathroom appliance before.”

They had to wait until dark before they could go dig up the grave, so they ordered in Chinese and settled in to wait for the sun to go down. Jess munched on her lo-mein and tried to suppress her nervousness. 

They’d hunted ghosts before. Peter Sweeney, Bloody Mary, the Hook Man. They were all technically ghosts. This shouldn’t be such a big deal. This was even a relatively easy hunt. They just had to salt and burn the bones. 

And dig up an actual dead body. 

Jess had never had to dig up a dead body before. Even with the Hook Man, Dean had been the one to find the grave and salt and burn the bones. 

She hadn’t thought she was particularly squeamish when it came to bones. She’d seen plenty of dead bodies in the months she’d been on the road with Dean and they had all been pretty gruesome. They just hadn’t been in the ground for over a hundred years. 

Driving to the graveyard was an exercise in trying to hide her fidgeting. Judging by the surreptitious looks Dean kept throwing her, she failed. Dean parked in a dark shadow under a tree about twenty yards from the front gate. The sound of the car doors opening and closing broke the silence like a gunshot and Jess flinched. 

“Why don’t you WD-40 those hinges or something?” she hissed, her eyes darting around the street, paranoid. 

Dean stuck his head out of the trunk long enough to give her a scandalized look. “Bite your tongue!”

Jess fumbled when he shoved a shovel in her hands and dropped a duffle full of salt and lighter fluid on top. She glared at him. 

He was unrepentant and wiggled his double barreled sawed off in front of her. “I’m on lookout so you get to carry the bags.” 

Jess watched him stroll off toward the gate with a scowl. She blew a fly-away out of her eyes and started after him. “Jerk.”

The graveyard wasn’t as creepy as she thought it would be. The headstones were clean and mostly all granite. The greenkeepers must have kept the place pretty well groomed ‘cause there wasn’t that many little pockets of overgrown weeds. Her nervousness was just starting to ease when they hit the very back of the cemetery where they kept the old graves. 

Now that section was creepy. As in crumbling headstones with illegible names, some of the graves were even sunken in from the coffins collapsing over time. She almost tripped in a sunken dip covered up by weeds. 

Dean grabbed her arm and yanked her up before she could hit the ground. She stumbled back onto firm ground her heart racing from the shock. 

He looked at her for a long second before turning back to looking for Bethany Hartford’s grave. 

“Keep to walking between the graves,” he called over his shoulder as he scanned the area diligently. “I nearly broke an ankle my first time out falling in a grave like that.”

Jess looked back down at the perfectly proportional dip behind her. “Right, note to self: don’t walk over the dead people.” She adjusted the duffle on her shoulder and white-knuckled her shovel. 

They searched around for ten more minutes until Jess finally spotted a deteriorating stone with only the letters “Beth” readily visible. 

“I think I found it.”

Dean doubled back and came over to kneel down at the head stone shining his flashlight on it. “Bethany E. Hartford. Gotcha.”

He grinned at her for a second then stood back up. “Let’s get to digging.”

Despite what Dean had implied earlier, Jess was the one on lookout while he dug the grave. 

Jess stood to the side of the grave while Dean steadily shoveled his way down. She gripped the sawed-off tightly scanning the surrounding area nervously paranoid something was going to sneak up on her. Something being Bethany Hartford’s pissed off ghost. 

In her imagination, digging up a grave was all rhythmic tossing of dirt then surprise! casket. In real life it was a whole hell of a lot of back breaking work. It was easy to forget that the dead were generally buried six feet under and the average size of a coffin was a little over two feet wide and seven feet long. 

With that in mind, in the hour and a half Dean had been digging, Jess went from high alert to bored stiff. 

“Do you want me to take a turn?” She looked down at him in the grave.

Dean was covered in dirt and sweating through his shirt despite the chilly night. He’d already shed his jacket and Jess thought if he had to dig much longer his flannel over shirt would join it in the ground. His breathing was elevated but not nearly enough considering he’d made some serious headway on digging up a grave. It occurred to her not for the first time that Dean was in insanely good shape. 

He stopped digging and leaned against the shovel looking up at her. “You sure?”

She bit her lip not really looking forward to it, but if she was going to be a hunter, be his partner, then she’d have to take her fair share of the work load. 

“Yeah.” She nodded determined and reached a hand down to help him out of the surprisingly large hole he’d already dug. “I need to learn how to desecrate a grave anyway. No time like the present.”

He chuckled then waved off her helping hand, lifting himself out of the hole in one swift graceful move. “It’s all yours, darlin’.”

They traded the shotgun for the shovel and Jess jumped down into the hole considerably less gracefully than Dean climbed out of it. 

The wood handle was still warm from Dean’s hands when Jess picked it up and shoved it into her first shovelful of grave dirt. She tossed it onto the growing pile of dirt next to the grave and went back for another one. 

Thirty minutes later she had some truly massive blisters and she felt like she was going to throw up. Or have a heart attack, you know, whichever came first. The only positives, if you could call them that, were that she and Dean now matched in being covered with dirt, and she’d gotten about foot and a half of progress on their hole. 

Thirty minutes after that she shoved her shovel in and hit something solid and hollow. 

“Um,” she banged the tip of the shovel on the solid hollow thing again. “I think I found the coffin?”

Dean’s lips twitched. “Is that a question?”

Jess frowned at him. “I found the coffin.” 

“Awesome.” He grinned, and reached down to give her a hand up. She took it gratefully and totally didn’t squeak when he pretty much deadlifted her out of the hole. They traded shovel for gun again and Dean finished scraping the dirt away.

The coffin looked pretty expensive, you know, for a hundred year old dead person box. 

Dean tossed the shovel up on the grass. “Hand me the crowbar in the bag.” 

She tossed it down to him. He wedged it under the lid and with a grunt and thick flex of muscle pried the coffin open. 

Looking into it, Jess gagged a little. Bethany Hartford was mostly bones and mummified skin and her clothes were tattered and filled with holes. The thing that disturbed Jess out the most, though, was the sight of her perfectly styled hair. Not a strand out of place. There was just something so wrong about that. 

Before Jess could really work up to puking in the middle of a cemetery, Dean jumped out of the grave again and grabbed the can of rock salt out of the duffel bag. He’d barely popped the cap when a beautiful, elegantly dressed dead Victorian socialite flickered behind Dean and tossed him five feet in the air. 

“Gah!” Jess snapped the sawed-off up and pulled the trigger. Bethany dissipated like smoke. 

There was a groan from the other side of the pile of dirt. 

“Dean?”

“I’m good. Get the salt!”

She didn’t have time to reach down for it. Bethany appeared two feet from her face and slashed at her with a straight razor. Jess yelped and nearly tripped over her own feet trying to scramble backwards. Bethany was so close her razor shaved right through Jess’s t-shirt. But she was also close enough that Jess didn’t even have to lift the sawed-off above waist level. 

She pulled the trigger and Bethany dissipated again. 

Dean had pulled himself off the ground and lunged around the grave scooping up the salt on his way.

“Reload!”

Jess cracked the gun open and yanked the empty shells out shoving in two new ones from the stash in her jacket pocket. Her hands were shaking so it took a split second too long. 

She snapped the gun closed and Bethany materialized next to her shoving her twenty feet away from the gravesite. Jess grunted when she hit the ground, but thankfully due to the death grip she had on the shotgun it didn’t go flying in the opposite direction. 

The ghost flickered toward her like a sketchy hologram and in a blink it was crouched over her with her razor raised. Jess pulled the trigger and the salt exploded again tearing through Bethany. She didn’t get any breathing room. 

Bethany appeared a blink later knocking the shotgun away and grabbing Jess’s arm in an icy cold grip. 

She leaned close to Jess’s face and sneered at her. “ _He broke your heart, didn’t he? He died and left you all alone. Don’t you just want the pain to stop? Let me help you._ ”

Jess shrieked in fear grabbing the ghost’s wrist when she tried to slice through her with the razor. It was like trying to stop a car barehanded. Her arms were shaking and she could feel herself was losing her grip. 

“Jessica!” The shout in Dean’s frantic voice distracted her and Bethany’s razor nicked the soft skin just below her elbow. Jess shoved at her again getting a hair’s breadth of space. 

“Just fucking light the bitch, Dean!” 

Suddenly everywhere Bethany was touching Jess went from freezing cold to burning hot. Bethany’s eyes widened and her entire face contorted in a terrifying scream then she burst into flames. 

Without the weight of the ghost bearing down on her Jess went limp, her arms felt like jello. She laid in the grass staring up at the starry sky panting for breath. 

She heard pounding steps then Dean skidded to his knees in the grass. “Jess! Jessica! Are you alright?”

She turned her head to look at his concerned dirt smeared face and smiled dazedly. “Yeah, I’m good. She cut me though.” 

She tried to lift her arm to show off her wound, but her muscles didn’t cooperate and it just flopped around next to her. Dean sat back on his heels and looked at her for a second taking in her ungainly sprawl and her wide energized eyes. He snorted. 

“Yeah, you’ll be okay.” He nodded toward the sluggishly bleeding cut beneath her elbow. “It’s just a paper cut.”

“Paper cut?” Jess lifted her head off the ground indignantly. “Just a paper cut?! That bitch had a freaking straight razor.”

Dean did a terrible job of suppressing his amused smile. He grabbed her hand and started pulling her to her feet. “You think a straight razor’s bad? I had a chick come at me with a meat cleaver once.” His face spread into a grin. “And she wasn’t even dead. She was just pissed I tried to sneak out before she woke up.” 

Jess groaned when she got to her feet, and not just from the muscle strain. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I think I’m adorable.” He patted her on the back. 

The smell of burning bones was unpleasant and Jess was really looking forward to that shower once they got back to the motel. Unfortunately they couldn’t just leave a gaping hole in the middle of a cemetery. That would attract attention so they waited another half hour or so for the flames to burn down before they started to fill in the hole.

Thankfully, filling in a hole was a hell of a lot easier than digging it up to begin with. 

She didn’t know if she was just tired or what, but the trek back to the car took like four times as long as the trek in. Though she was pretty sure that was because every step she took made Jess’s tailbone ache. Apparently she’d landed on it when the ghost threw her. 

“My butt’s gonna be sore for a week,” she grumbled rubbing the offended body part with a grimace. 

Dean looked over at her. Jess got one look at his face and pointed warningly at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” He tried to look innocent, but Jess hadn’t been fooled by that look the first time they’d met and definitely wasn’t now. 

“You know what.”

Dean just huffed clearly still amused by her pain. Rounding the car he popped the trunk and they tossed their grave desecration paraphernalia inside. They climbed in the car and drove away from the cemetery with little fanfare. 

Jess sat silently in the passenger seat feeling leftover adrenaline buzzing through her veins. She glanced at Dean. He looked relaxed, satisfied. “How are you not completely wired right now?”

He flicked a quick look at her and shrugged. “I’ve been doing this since I was like eleven. The adrenaline doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

Jess hummed, a little jealous. As it was she wasn’t going to be able to sleep for like another five hours even though she was bone tired. 

“Well, you know. That and I like to burn a little energy off after a good hunt.”

“How do you do that?” she asked not having noticed him doing anything different after the rest of their hunts. She realized mistake too late when he smirked mischievously.

“Babes and booze, Jessie. Babes and booze.”

“Shit.” She sighed and slumped in her seat. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“I have no idea why you’d think that.” 

Jess just groaned and tried to think of a way to get herself out of this, but judging by the truly gleeful glint in Dean’s eyes, he’d physically drag her out if he had to. 

Yeah, Jess thought, I’m definitely not going to be getting any sleep anytime soon. 

*

Three and a half hours later, Dean had Jess flung over his shoulder as he carried her back to their motel room. He’d gotten drunk enough to have fun and she’d gotten drunk enough to start a catfight with a stripper. 

“Deeeeeeean,” Jess whined with every step. Her tail bone had stopped aching somewhere after the third shot, but hanging upside down with her ass six feet up in the air didn’t do anything for her dizziness. “Put me down, I can walk.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Dean drawled as he continued trudging away from the strip club they’d just been tossed out of. “I’ll put you down soon as I’m sure you can actual stay standing.”

Jess huffed annoyed. “I kicked that stripper’s ass. I think I can walk by myself.” 

Dean chuckled and patted Jess on the back of her thigh. “That you did, Jessie. Though I’m still not clear on why exactly you decided that chick needed her extensions pulled out.”

“She was im-pugn-ing your honor,” she carefully enunciated as only a truly drunk person can.

“Yeah, you said that when the bouncers pulled you off her.” Dean adjusted his hold on Jess, bouncing her belly against his shoulder making her grunt unhappily. 

“Well, she was,” Jess insisted trying to keep her forehead from smacking Dean’s butt. “She said you were too pretty. That you had to be an asshole with a tiny dick to make up for it.” She twisted around trying to look at Dean. “And I told her you were the best guy ever and your dick was plenty big.”

Dean tripped over nothing and almost lost his grip on Jess. She screeched indignantly and punched him in the butt in retaliation. 

“How do you even know how big my dick is? And why do you care if some B-team stripper thinks I’m a jerk?”

“Dean,” Jess said sounding as long suffering as a drunk girl being fireman carried could. “We live together. It was inevitable you’d flash your junk at me eventually.”

“Great,” Dean grumbled turning into the motel parking lot. “Now I feel like a pervert.”

“It’s okay,” Jess consoled him, elbowing him in the back of the head when she tried to pat him on the shoulder. “You saw my tits that one time, so we’re even.” 

“Is it weird that that makes me feel better?” he asked as he struggled to pull his room key out of his pocket without dropping her. 

“Nope.” Jess shook her head and got momentarily distracted by her hair swishing around her face. “Not weird at all.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, alright. Let’s get you in bed, drunky.” He carefully lowered her to her feet once they were inside the motel room keeping a hold of her arms in case she collapsed. 

“But not your bed.” Jess frowned very seriously. “That would be weird.”

His lips turned up in an amused grin. “Definitely weird.”

Next thing Jess knew she was sprawled on her bed flat on her back and Dean was untying her shoes to tug them off. 

She lifted her head up blurrily. He was looking down at what he was doing not up at her. “Dean.”

“Hm?”

“I had to kick her ass, you know that right?”

“Yeah, why’s that?” He cast a humoring glance her way, but the expression on her face caught his attention. 

“’Cause you may be a jerk, but you’re my jerk,” she said. “We’re partners. And nobody messes with my partner.”

Jess held his gaze surprisingly steady considering how smashed she was. Dean looked into her serious blue eyes and felt his chest suddenly flood with warmth. He smiled at her.

“Well, then thanks for having my back,” he replied sincerely then looked back down at the tangled up shoelaces in his fingers. 

She grinned dopily at the top of his head and dropped her head back to the bed with a thump. 

Dean finally finished tugging her shoes off and started poking and prodding at her until she rolled around to lay right side up on the bed. He pulled the blankets out from under her and tucked them in around her shoulders. 

“Here’s to hoping you don’t gotta puke in the morning.” 

“Mm,” Jess agreed sleepily cuddling into her pillow. “G’night, Dean.” 

He looked down at her with a trace of a smile on his lips. Brushing wavy blond hair away from her forehead, Dean whispered. 

“’Night, partner.”

*

TBC…


	8. Back to the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say there’s no place like home, but Jess was sure Dean would give anything not to be in Kansas anymore.

*  
Jess was sitting cross-legged on Dean’s bed, a towel laid out with bits and pieces of different guns scattered in front of her. Her fingers were getting stained with grease and the smell of gun oil was likely to never come out of her nose. It didn’t bother her too much. Over the weeks on the road with Dean the smell of gun oil has started to mean safety. There was always a trace of it mixed in with the smell of leather and dude that came off Dean. 

That being said, she was getting really frustrated. Dean had decided she needed practice disassembling, cleaning and reassembling their ridiculously vast arsenal. Who knew that guns had so many pieces and parts? That and she’d pinched her fingers in the small mechanisms so many times she was going to be covered in blood blisters. 

“All right, I’ve been cruising the web and I think I’ve found some possibilities for our next gig.”

Jess fumbled with the slide on a Berretta and pinched the skin between her thumb and index finger “Son of a bitch!”

Dean hid a smirk before she could see it. 

“We’ve got a fishing trawler off the coast of Cali, the whole crew vanished.” Jess made a distracted noise of interest. “Some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “And a guy in Sacramento shot himself in the head three times.” 

She looked up expression dubious. “That just sounds like unfortunate aim, not supernatural evil.”

“Meh. Could go either way.” He shrugged. “So what’s blowing up your skirt? Ghost ship or dead Bevos?”

Jess tilted her head considering, her fingers clumsily shoving an oil cloth through the Berretta’s barrel. “Well, I haven’t been on a boat in a while. Could use a little brushing up on my sailing skills.”

“Ghost ship it is.” Dean turned back to the laptop, but before he could pull up any more info on the hunt Jess’s hunting cell started ringing.

They both eyed it curiously. The screen displayed an unfamiliar number. It was usually Dean’s phones that rang randomly with unfamiliar numbers. 

Cautiously she picked it up looking to Dean. He nodded and she flipped it open. 

“Hello?”

“ _Jessica, honey, my name is Missouri. I’m a psychic in Lawrence, Kansas,_ ” a woman on the other line said. She had a light pitched, smooth voice with a wisp to her words. She sounded like an older woman, middle aged with a forceful personality, like she would shove familiarity on you whether you liked it or not. 

“Um…okay.” She glanced at Dean uncertainly. “Why are you calling me?”

“ _Well, I’ve been told you and Dean need to come home, to Lawrence. There’s something wrong with his old house._ ” 

A shiver went up Jess’s spine. “What do you mean ‘wrong’? What’s wrong with his house?”

“ _I don’t know._ ” Missouri the psychic sighed. “ _But there’s a family livin’ there now. They’re in danger._ ”

“I-I don’t understand. Who told you about Dean’s old house? How did you even get my number?”

Dean had been listening closely to Jessica’s side of the conversation. She was getting tenser the longer it went on and he was prepared to grab the phone and demand to know what was going. When he heard Jessica mention his old house, every muscle in his body tensed and he stood, reaching over to snatch the phone. 

“ _You tell Dean to sit back down,_ ” Missouri ordered, like she had a right to. “ _I’ll be able to tell you everything I know once you get here. Make it quick, though. I don’t how much longer that family will be safe._ ”

Before Jess could say anything to that, Dean wrenched the phone from her hands. 

“Who the fuck is this?” he growled. 

He waited a breath scowling then pulled the phone from his ear and snapped it shut. “They hung up.”

Jess took in a shaky breath. “Dean, I think we’re gonna have to go to Kansas.”

He clenched his fist around the phone. “What the hell was that?”

“It was a psychic called Missouri. She said there was something wrong in your old house. That a family was in danger.” 

Dean hissed through his teeth. “This lady just called you to tell you that? How did she even know your number?” he asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know!” Jess frowned up at him. “Why do you sound like I had something to do with this? I didn’t even know you were from Kansas!” 

“Jessica, random psychics don’t just call people out of the blue talking about people’s old houses.” 

“Don’t get mad at me!” She shoved him back away from the bed so she could stand. “You don’t think I’m just as freaked out about this as you are? I’m the one she called, why didn’t she call you if it’s your house!”

Jess had never actually yelled at him before and it shocked Dean out of his angry haze. He deflated. Lifting a hand to rub over his face, he sighed wearily. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting angry at you.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t,” Jess snapped still not happy with him.

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t snap back at her. She had a right to be pissed at him. It wasn’t her fault the mere thought of going back to Lawrence made his gut clinch.

“So, what did this psychic tell you?” he asked reluctantly, forcing himself to keep his tone level. “Did she tell you what was going on with- with my old house?”

Jess held onto her frown for another second then picked up Dean’s olive branch. “She didn’t say much. Just that there was something wrong with the house. That a family was in danger.”

“Yeah, that’s not annoyingly vague or anything,” he grumbled. 

Jess lips quirked amused. She’d forgiven him already. 

“Well.” Dean clapped his hands together trying to make light of the situation. “I guess you’re not going to get your sailing practice in after all. We’re going to Kansas.”

*

They searched the web and couldn’t find any articles of anything weird going on in Lawrence, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Usually they didn’t find their hunts until someone had already died. The psychic, Missouri, had just said the family was in danger, not that bodies had started dropping. 

Jess let the drive continue in silence. The atmosphere in the car was tense and Dean’s brow was wrinkled the entire way, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. She could tell he was upset just from the fact that he hadn’t even twitched a finger to turn on the radio. 

They made the drive in ten hours nonstop with only bathroom breaks and a short fill up in between. Jess would have protested if she didn’t already know that Dean was struggling. 

His words, the way he’d told her about how his mother died, how tight his voice got when he told her he’d carried Sam out of the house. They played over and over in Jess’s head stuck on a loop. She was having a hard time with the thought of going back to the place where everything, this fucked up life had started. She couldn’t imagine how Dean had to be feeling.

By the time they hit Lawrence city limits it was too late to either check out the house or find the psychic. They pulled into the first motel they passed and got a double queen room like every other room they’d ever rented. 

They had grabbed fast food on their way to the motel so there wasn’t anything to occupy their time with except thinking. About the thing that might be in Dean’s childhood home or about the nightmarish memories of the last time he’d stepped foot inside it. Either option wasn’t good and Jess could almost physically feel the roiling emotions coming off Dean.

“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Jess asked quietly as she watched Dean paw through John’s journal restlessly. 

“I don’t know,” he muttered dropping the journal on the bed next to him and scrubbing his face roughly with both hands. “I don’t know. I have no freaking idea what the hell we’re even doing here.”

“We should go talk to Missouri,” Jess suggested. “She’s the one that called us in the first place.” 

Dean blew out a long breath. “Yeah. Maybe.” He dropped his head back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling unseeingly. 

Jess let the silence hang between them for a moment before she decided to speak. “What do you know about psychics? Are there really people that are actually psychic?”

Dean lifted his head and turned to look at her. “Psychics are real,” he confirmed. “There’s different kinds. Ones like Whoopie or Zelda Rubenstein. Some can get messages from the dead, read palms, minds, auras, you know the usual gigs. Our dad used to leave us with a psychokinetic. Dude could control the physical, manipulate material things anyway he wanted.”

“So Missouri could be a real psychic.”

“That’s what I’m betting on.” Dean nodded. “But I don’t get how she knew to call you. And why you and not me?”

“And why would she even care to find a way to contact us in the first place,” Jess added. 

Any answers either of them could come up weren’t comfortable to think about. Suddenly, Dean frowned and picked up John’s journal again flipping to the first page. His face smoothed out in revelation.

“Missouri,” he started. “That name, it kept nagging me. I couldn’t figure it out, but I just remembered. Here, on the first page of my dad’s journal.”

Jess stood up and moved to sit next him on his bed leaning over to look at the journal reading, “‘I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.’”

“I always thought he meant the state,” Dean mused. “But a psychic makes more sense.” 

Jess smiled. “Yeah, I guess it would.” She looked back down at the entry and hummed in thought. “So, Missouri knew your dad. Maybe that’s why she noticed that there was something wrong. She’s more sensitive ‘cause she has a connection.”

Dean tossed the journal away again. “Just as likely as anything. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

Jess relaxed back against the headboard her shoulder pressed to Dean’s, sharing warmth. She picked up the remote off the bedside table and turned the tv on. Neither of them were going to get much sleep that night so they might as well get caught up on their shopping channel products and infomercials.

“Hey, wait go back.” Dean patted the back of his hand against her leg. “That looked interesting.”

“Dr. Sexy MD?” She asked dubiously.

He just shrugged. “It’s not like I’m gonna buy a Slap Chop or anything.” 

Jess looked back at the hospital drama playing on the screen and figured, what the hell, why not. She set the remote down and settled into watch. 

*

Missouri Mosely was in the phone book right under the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky. She worked out of her house, a homey two story that looked satisfactorily new age. There was a tinkling wind chime hanging on the front porch, crystals sitting inside on the windowsills, and wind ornaments in the suspiciously herby garden. 

“Those don’t look like cooking herbs,” Jess commented as they walked up the front step. 

Dean eyed them and snorted. “That’s ‘cause they’re not.”

There was a welcome sign on the front door that said, “Come right on in,” and there was a welcome mat with ancient looking symbols on it. 

Dean saw her eyeing it. “Celtic symbols for health and good fortune.”

Jess shrugged, figured it wasn’t all that much of a stretch for a psychic that called total strangers because a random family was in danger to have symbols like that on her welcome mat. 

They walked in the door and found a comfortable waiting room. It looked just like a regular old parlor with couches that were cared for, but obviously broken in. The only thing that really screamed waiting room were the out of date magazines, National Geographic and Oprah respectively. 

Jess considerately ignored Dean’s shifty look as he picked up an Oprah magazine and started flipping through it. 

They only had to wait a little over ten minutes before they heard a door sliding open and two pairs of footsteps coming toward them. It was an average unremarkable looking man followed closely by a short, plump black woman. Two guesses which one is the psychic and one of them doesn’t count.

“All right, there. Don’t you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” 

Jess recognized her voice from the phone, still wispy and light. 

The man left with a thank you and no sooner had the woman closed the door she turned around and sighed. 

“Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.”

Dean looked puzzled. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“People don’t come here for the truth,” she said. “They come here for good news.” 

Jess didn’t know how true that was. After all, John’s journal had said he went to Missouri and learned the truth.

Missouri looked them both up and down and suddenly her expression softened. 

“Dean and Jessica, I’m glad you came.” 

“You knew we’d come,” Jess replied. After all, the way Missouri had just hung up on her she seemed pretty confident her summons would be heeded. 

“Mostly.” Missouri shrugged with a smile. “Well, come on. We ain’t got all day.” 

Dean and Jess shared a look before standing up in sync and following the short woman further into her home.

They followed her all the way through a beaded curtain and into a cozy den. Missouri turned around and eyed Dean up and down. 

“Let me look at you.” She hummed pleased. “Oh, you grew up handsome, boy. And Jessica,” she reached out and took Jess’s hand in a soft grasp. “You certainly are beautiful.”

She was completely sincere and Jess couldn’t help but smile. Then Missouri turned and grabbed Dean’s hand as well. He tensed.

“Oh, honeys, I’m so very sorry about Sam. He loved you both very much.” She frowned suddenly looking from Dean to Jess, something unreadable flickered in her expression then it was gone. She turned concerned before either of them could give much thought to it.

Dean cleared his throat and pulled his hand away, his body almost radiating tension. “How’d you know about Sam?”

Missouri looked saddened. “Well, you were just thinking about just now.”

“Do you know what killed him?” It came out sounding almost angry, demanding. “Do you know what killed our mom?”

Jess could tell Missouri was truly sorry she couldn’t give them an answer. Dean however, wasn’t satisfied. 

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic aren’t you?” 

Her face became pinched as Missouri scowled in affront. “Boy, you don’t see me sawing some bony tramp in half. You think I’m a magician? I read thoughts and sense energies. I don’t just pull answers out of thin air.”

She turned away sharply and gestured to the couch pressed up against one wall. “Sit. Please.”

Dean looked part chastised and part pissed still. Jess decided it was probably best to just follow Missouri’s instructions and sit down. She pressed a hand to Dean’s back and pushed him in the direction of the couch. He glanced at her sullenly, but was soon taking a seat next to her. 

“Boy! You put your feet up on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon.”

Dean’s scowl deepened and he dropped his boot back down to the floor. Jess looked back at Missouri, curiously. The woman somehow got her number and called her up out of the blue because she knew she was traveling with Dean. That in itself was suspicious, but no matter how good a mind reader you were, there was no way she could have known Sam loved either of them, just from their biased thoughts and memories floating around in their heads. 

Jess was inclined to like this short brusque woman despite all the unanswered questions, because she also had a kind manner about her. It was plain that she cared about people, and she cared about using her powers for good things. 

But idle threat or not, Jess had spent too damn long on the road fighting creatures from your worst nightmares side by side with Dean. A whack with a spoon was minor compared to a wendigo’s claws, but that was twice she’d jumped down Dean’s throat and Jess had grown a might protective of her partner. 

And if she kept that up, Jess’s generosity with her good will was going to run out. 

“Ms. Mosely,” Jess spoke into the sullen silence. “You called us saying a family was in danger. That there was something in Dean’s old house.”

Missouri sat back and nodded. “I did. I’ve been keeping an eye on the place and I noticed that something was wrong. The energies in the house took a dark turn. I called you because you can help.”

“You knew my dad, didn’t you? That’s why you even noticed,” Dean cut in. “That’s why you called us. He came to you for answers, so you knew he would believe you.”

Missouri nodded slowly. “It wasn’t long after the fire that your daddy came to me.” She pursed her lips, remembering. “He wanted the truth so I told him what was really out there. I guess you could say I pulled back the curtains for him.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “And the fire. Do you know what killed our mom?” He asked again, trying to be calmer.

Jess saw Missouri’s frown unhappily and she already knew the answer. 

“He took me to your house hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of the thing.”

“And did you?” Dean’s voice was strained and his knee started to bounce up and down. Jess reached over and stilled it, squeezing lightly in comfort. 

“I don’t know what it was.” Missouri shook her head. “But it was evil.”

A shiver went up Jess’s spine. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know the thing that killed Mary Winchester and Sam was evil incarnate, but hearing it whispered from a psychic like that was unsettling. Under her hand the muscles in Dean’s leg tense. He wasn’t liking the implications either. 

*

After their uneasy meeting with the psychic, Dean and Jess pulled into a gas station to fill up before driving over to the house. Jess wasn’t quite sure how they were going to get the family to let them in to talk, but she was confident that one way or another they’d get in the house. 

Slowly but surely Dean was letting Jess take more and more liberties with the Impala, but she was still nervous that she’d do some obscure thing wrong and Dean would make her ride in the trunk as punishment. So it was that she was paying so much attention to just how much gas she was filling up the tank it took a while to notice that Dean was spending way too much time taking a leak. 

Even still, she waited until the gas cap was safely screwed back on before she went hunting for him. 

When she found him she almost wished she hadn’t. 

“I don’t know what to do.” Dean had his cell pressed so hard against his ear his fingertips were white. His voice was strained and quivering and Jess knew he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. “So, whatever you’re doin’, if you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad.”

He took in a shuddering breath before he snapped the cell closed and shoved it roughly back in pocket. His shoulders were hunched and Jess could just barely make out a fine tremor in them. 

As quietly as she could, she backed up then turned and hurried to car. By the time Dean came around the corner, Jess was sitting in the passenger seat trying very hard to look like she hadn’t just been eavesdropping on him calling his father for help. 

“Ready to go see the old house?” Dean slid into the seat and started up the engine. 

Jess thought she was the one that should be asking him that. “Are you?”

He paused with his hands on the wheel, then nonchalantly shifted gears and pulled away. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

She didn’t say anything more, because she knew any answer she could have given him wouldn’t have been received well. They drove the ten minutes to the old Winchester family home in silence. 

When they pulled up to the curb and finally looked at the house where it all started Jess didn’t know what she had been expecting. Obviously the house wouldn’t look like a burned out shell like her apartment. It was over twenty years ago that the fire had ravaged the house and the chances of someone not buying it and fixing it up were slim to none. 

Whatever she’d been expecting she was still surprised at the sight of a pleasant looking two story with a mowed lawn and clean windows. 

She cast a glance at Dean and saw him frowning as he stared at the house. 

“Does it look like it used to?”

Dean flexed his hand around the steering wheel never taking his eyes off the house. “I don’t really remember. I was four when we left.”

He was four and had just watched his home go up in flames. 

“How do you want to play this?” Jess asked.

Finally Dean tore his eyes away and looked back at her. “FBI? Termite inspectors? Gas company? Take your pick.”

Jess wrinkled her nose. “’Cause that’s not sketchy at all.”

Dean huffed. “Well what do you think we should say?”

Biting her lip Jess leaned forward and looked across him at the house again. “It’s not unheard of for a house’s previous owners to stop by to take a look. We could just tell the truth.”

His dubious expression said plainly what he thought about that idea. 

Jess sighed beleaguered and shoved him in the shoulder while opening the car door. “Just trust me. Come on.”

“Fine.” Dean grumbled under his breath the entire walk across the street but the second he stepped on the front walk he fell eerily silent.

The front porch was clean and free of debris. Taking a peek into the front window, Jess saw a bunch of packing boxes scattered around the sparsely furnished living room. 

“They just moved in,” she murmured to Dean, he looked in the window at her prompting, the stressed frown never leaving his face. 

“Great. Let’s knock on the damn door already.”

It took an appropriate length of time before the deadbolt was unlocked and a young blond woman with tired shadows under her eyes and a polite smile opened the door. 

“Can I help you?” She looked from Jess to Dean, remaining polite through her uncertainty. 

Jess waited a moment for Dean to speak, but when he didn’t she saw the expression on his face. He almost looked scared. 

“Hi.” Jess stepped forward with a smile pulling the other woman’s attention to her and not at Dean’s wavering face. “I’m Jess and this is my friend Dean. He used to live here,” she said for once telling the absolute truth. “We were driving by and saw that someone had moved in.” 

The woman’s face cleared and her smile became a little more genuine. “Wait. Dean? Dean Winchester?”

Dean snapped out of his daze for the first time and looked at her warily. “Yeah. How did you know that?”

“I think I found some of your old pictures,” she told them, genuinely excited at the prospect. 

“You did?” Dean asked, surprised and little bit trepidatious. 

She nodded. “Yeah.” She hesitated for a second then stepped to the side, gesturing deeper into the house. “Why don’t you come in?”

Walking through the house, they followed after the woman. The entrance way was empty, but there were a few family photos already hung up on the wall. 

“I’m Jenny, by the way.” The woman glanced over her shoulder at them as they followed her into the kitchen. “How long ago did you live here?”

Dean’s shoulders were tense and his eyes scanned around them continuously. Jess wondered if he was seeing his childhood home instead of Jenny’s. 

“We uh- we moved when I was four.” He answered almost reluctantly. 

Jenny frowned a little, confused. “That’s a long time ago.” 

Dean tried to smirk disarmingly. “You never forget your first. Ow!”

He scowled at Jess rubbing a hand over the sore on his ribs she’d just stabbed with her elbow. She just glared back and turned back to Jenny. 

There was little girl seated at the kitchen table drawing in a coloring book and a toddler bouncing up and down in a play pen on the other side of the kitchen. He was chanting juice, juice, juice, with a childish grin. Jess felt her lips twitch in amusement. 

“That’s Ritchie. He’s a bit of a juice junky.” Jenny turned to the fridge and pulled out a sippy cup of juice. “At least he won’t get scurvy.” 

The little boy took the juice and started mainlining it like it was going out of style. 

“This is my daughter Sairie.” Jenny stroked a hand over the little girl’s head. Sairie glanced up at her mom and smiled back. “Sairie, this is Dean and Jess. Dean used to live here.”

She looked at them and gave a shy smile. “Hi.”

Jess grinned at her and waved a little. “Hi, Sairie.”

If anything the introduction of the kids made Dean even more uncomfortable. He shifted on his feet and tried to keep his focus on Jenny and not on how much the kitchen looked the same and different than the last time he’d watched his mom bake an apple pie here. 

“So you just moved in?” He finally settled his attention on Jenny. If she noticed the oddness of his behavior she didn’t mention it.

“Yeah,” Jenny’s expression mellowed, saddened, then she pushed the emotions away. “Just moved from Wichita.”

“You have family here or…” Dean trailed off. Jess glanced at him. He looked like he was starting to get his own emotions under control to concentrate on gathering information. 

“No, I uh…” Jess saw it when Jenny glanced down at the gold band on her left ring finger for a split second then looked back up at them. “I just needed a fresh start. So, new town, new job, new house.”

Dean caught the motion as well and they shared a look, before he looked back to Jenny. “How are you likin’ Lawrence so far? How’s the house treating you?”

Jenny hesitated for a second weighing her response. “Well, all due respect to your childhood home, but the house has its problems.”

Jess’s burgeoning hunter’s instincts tingled and by the expression on Dean’s face so did his.

“Oh, really? Like what?” He bent his expression into curiosity, but it looked forced, almost painful. 

“Well,” Jenny shrugged. “The sink’s backed up, the lights keep flickering, and I’m pretty sure there’s rats in the basement.” 

Dean swallowed thickly and his voice came out strained. Jess ached for him even though her mind was already running through all the different monsters that could cause all those things. 

“Well, that’s too bad.” 

Jenny looked regretful. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.” 

“No, it’s alright,” he assured her even though it was obvious her words had hit a nerve. “Have you actually seen the rats or just heard the scratching?”

Jenny frowned. “Just the scratching, I guess.”

There was something about the invisible rats that rang a bell for Jess, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The fact that Dean had focused on the rats, meant it was significant. 

“Mom.” Sairie’s voice was quiet in the way that little kids had when they thought they were being discreet. 

“Honey?”

“Ask him if it was here when he lived here.” She flicked her eyes at Dean and when his eyes met hers she looked away shyly. 

“What?” Jenny asked, confused. 

“The thing in my closet,” Sairie whispered fearfully. 

“Baby, there was nothing in his closet. Right?” She looked at Dean asking him to back her up. 

“No, there wasn’t anything in my closet,” Dean agreed regardless of his almost visible need to dig. 

“See? There isn’t anything in your closet.” Jenny looked like she’d had to contend with the invisible thing in the closet before. Jess was sure she thought that Dean’s words would reinforce her assurance.

“Yes, there is,” Sairie burst out, frustrated at not being believed.

“I’m sorry.” Jenny looked back at Jess and Dean. “She had a nightmare the other night.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare! It came out of my closet and it was on fire,” Sairie said, looking right at Dean her expression trying to convince him. 

He didn’t need to be convinced. Jess felt a shiver race up her spine and her chest hitched. All thoughts that this was just some random coincidence that brought them here flew from her mind. There was no way a figure on fire coming out of a closet in a house where a mother died burning on the ceiling was anything other than related. 

One glance at Dean and Jess knew he was too shocked by this revelation to even begin to follow procedure. Jess was struggling with her own shock and horror, but she shoved everything down with the resolve to try and treat this like any other case. First step, gather information. Second step, check out the scene of the crime. 

“That sounds pretty scary,” Jess murmured sympathetically to Sairie stepping closer and crouching down to eye level with the little girl. 

Sairie nodded and pressed her shoulder into her mom’s stomach where she was standing next to her chair. “It comes out on fire and stands there staring at me.”

“I would be scared too, but you know what?” Jess gestured over her shoulder. “Dean is a monster hunter.”

Dean looked at her in surprise. Jess jerked her head toward Sairie pointedly. 

“Uh- Yeah.” Dean stumbled not as quick on the uptake as usual. “I am. I get rid of closet monsters all the time.” 

Jenny looked like she didn’t know exactly how she felt about where this conversation was going, but one look at her daughter’s hopeful expression and she decided to play along. 

“Sairie, I bet if you asked nicely, Dean would look in your closet for you.”

Sairie hit Dean with those big shiny eyes. “Can you? Look in my closet?”

Jess had already known he was going to look in the closet, but Dean was a big softy for kids and now, come hell or high water, he was going to look in that closet for that little girl, even if he hadn’t already had reason to look into it. 

“Sure.” He nodded and gestured back toward the doorway to the kitchen into the rest of the house. “Why don’t you show me your room?”

Sairie jumped up and raced past them her mother trailing after her with a wry regretful expression. Dean and Jess followed behind in tense silence. 

The walk up the stairs was quick and in a blink they were standing in a little girl’s room. There were flowers and stuffed animals and pink decorations spread around. Dean looked mildly uncomfortable in the midst of all the girly-ness and any other time Jess would have been amused, but the circumstances were too serious. 

“There.” Sairie pointed from where she was standing next to Jess as far away from her closet as she could get. “That’s my closet.” 

Dean looked around the room and Jess realized that it wasn’t just the pink that was bothering him. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but Jenny beat her too it. 

“Was this your room?”

Dean grimaced, but his expression cleared before he looked at Jenny to answer. “No, this- this was my little brother’s nursery.” 

“Sammy, right?” Jenny smiled until she caught the brief flicker of sadness across Dean’s face. 

He smiled at her though, before she could apologize. “Yeah. Sam.”

Her sympathies were in her expression, but thankfully they went unspoken in front of her daughter. 

Like the expert he was, Dean shook away the memories and smiled at Sairie. “Alright, let’s take a look at your closet.” 

He was all hunter’s confidence and showmanship for Sairie’s benefit as he strode over to the closet and yanked the doors open. 

Not that she was actually expecting anything to jump out at them, but Jess still felt herself relax when all that was revealed was miniature clothes and shoe boxes. 

“Nothing, yet.” Dean hummed. “Gotta look a little closer just to make sure though.”

He stepped inside and ran his hands across the shelves and along the walls, rapping his knuckles against the paneling. Getting down on his knees he felt along the baseboards and knocked against the wood flooring. Jess watched him intently, not completely sure how much of this was actually relevant and how much was just for Sairie’s benefit. 

Seeming done with his examination Dean stood up and came out closing the doors behind him. “I couldn’t find anything, Sairie. Your closet looks monster free.” 

He wasn’t lying about it looking clean, but Jess could tell that he wasn’t the least bit convinced of the lack of any other supernatural presence. 

“But I saw it!” Sairie burst out again. “I did. I’m not making it up.”

“I believe you, Sairie,” Dean assured her, only barely placating her. “And I’ll tell you what, I’ll give your mom my number so if the thing comes back, she can call me and I’ll come over and get rid of it.” 

She looked dubious, but hopeful again. “Really? You’ll come?”

He nodded, deadly serious. “I promise. Cross my heart.” He actually crossed his heart and Sairie seemed appeased. 

Jenny escorted them back down the stairs, Sairie returning to the kitchen when they reached the bottom. 

Before Jenny could open the door and see them out, Jess was handing Dean her little notepad from her purse along with a pilfered motel pen. 

“Oh, you don’t actually have to do that.” 

“It’s no problem, Jenny,” Dean said and ripped out the sheet handing it to her, waiting until she finally took it and looked at it. “That’s my number and Jess’s. We’re going to be in town for a while, so if you have any problems-” 

“Closet monster related or not,” Jess cut in when Jenny started to look suspicious.

Dean cast her a look and finished. “Just give us a call.”

Jenny looked back down at the paper in her hand and finally nodded, giving them a smile. “Thank you, for this. And thank you for indulging Sairie. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was no problem.” Dean waved her thanks away.

“We just hope it makes her feel better.” Jess smiled. 

“I think it will. Thanks again.”

They all exchanged polite goodbyes and two minutes later, Dean and Jess were back in the car and pulling away from the curb.

The silence around them was heavy and Jess was worried Dean’s face would get stuck like that if he didn’t stop scowling so hard. 

“I’m thinking it’s not a coincidence that there’s something wrong with the house,” Jess said, breaking the silence. 

“No,” Dean agreed darkly. “Definitely not a coincidence.”

Jess bit her lip really reluctant to ask. “Do you think it’s the thing that killed your mom and Sam?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted reluctantly. “I just know the flickering lights, the scratching in the walls, that’s all signs of a malicious spirit.”

“But do malicious spirits usually target their victims twenty years later on the other side of the country?” Jess asked dubiously.

“No,” Dean growled. “No, they don’t.” 

“But the figure on fire. What are the chances that isn’t related to your mom’s death?”

“I’m guessing not very high.” 

“So what’s the connection?” Jess frowned, trying and failing to come up with an answer. This was way out of her comfort zone. And it was glaringly obvious it was out of Dean’s comfort zone as well. 

She had an uneasy feeling about this whole thing, and it was becoming apparent this was only going to get more complicated as they went along. 

Dean’s scowl ratcheted up a notch. “I have no freaking idea.”

*

All they could really do at this point was their due diligence. They talked to John’s old business partner and got pretty much nothing they didn’t already know. The only thing that could have been noteworthy was that Jess had to practically hold Dean back from decking the older man. 

Not that Jess really begrudged him his anger, but punching a guy in face for being worried about a couple of helpless kids wasn’t exactly conducive to being inconspicuous and not getting arrested. 

All the news articles about the house they could dig up at the library weren’t much more helpful. Other than Mary Winchester’s death and the devastating fire at the house nothing even remotely interesting had happened in the house. 

It had two previous owners, one of them a family as well, but neither had reported any freak accidents or deaths. Whatever was happening in the house was definitely a new development. 

Finally, Jess couldn’t stomach the look on Dean’s face any longer and she dragged him away with the lure of food. If anything could have made her even more worried about him, on top of the entire emotional clusterfuck he was suffering, Dean only ate about half his burger and picked at his fries halfheartedly. He didn’t even ask if they had any pie. 

She was going to be so very glad when this was all over, because the only other time she been this worried about Dean had been in aftermath of Sam’s death. 

The surreptitious glances he kept casting his phone didn’t help either. In fact it just added a healthy layer of anger on top of everything else she was feeling. 

After their lackluster dinner, Jess brooked no argument when she suggested they pack it in for the day and head back to the motel. 

Dean was in no position to protest when Jess called first shower. He just sat on his bed and sullenly started flipping through the minimal chancels on the tv. It wasn’t until she came out of the bathroom dressed in her stretchy leggings and oversized t-shirt for bed with wet hair that Jess decided the silence had to stop. 

Dean hadn’t moved an inch and was now staring blankly at a documentary on penguins. The narrator kept mispronouncing penguins as “pengwings” and Jess was pretty sure Dean couldn’t have cared less about their eating habits. 

“I think we should take Missouri to the house tomorrow,” Jess said sitting down on her own bed and started brushing out her hair. “She said she read the echoes or whatever for John. Maybe she’ll be able to shed some light on what’s in the house now.”

Dean punched the tv off and tossed the remote to the side rubbing tiredly at his face. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is.” Jess exaggeratedly flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I came up with it.”

He snorted, vaguely amused, and Jess grinned to herself happy with her little triumph. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Jess said as she started braiding her. “This doesn’t sound like the standard malicious spirit. Usually, there’s a pattern of violence, but so far all Jenny and the kids are getting is creepy taunting.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded finally getting off his bed and pulling off his boots. “The only thing that glares ghost is the flaming closet monster, but even that hasn’t caused any damage yet.”

He started rummaging through his duffle pulling out his sweatpants and his dopp kit. “It’s definitely some kind of spirit though and it’s going to get violent sooner rather than later.” 

“So for a lack of other options we take Missouri to the house and get a reading.”

“That’s the plan.” Dean disappeared into the bathroom, conversation done. 

Jess climbed under the covers and curled up around her pillow getting comfortable. The sounds of Dean getting ready were strangely relaxing and by the time he came out and climbed into his own bed, she was already on the cusp of sleep. 

“’Night, Jess,” he murmured as he settled down into the only marginally comfortable mattress. 

“’Night.” Apparently all the reminders of grief and death were exhausting, ‘cause despite the emotional turmoil she was asleep before he flipped the light off. 

*

The next morning Jess was in the process of flipping through the yellow pages looking for somewhere to have lunch. They’d decided not to try and impose on Jenny until the afternoon. Missouri had been informed of this plan and was waiting to be picked up around four. 

Dean was at the kitchenette table flipping absently through John’s journal when his cell rang. 

He glanced at the screen and flipped it open. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jenny. Is something wrong?”

Jess glanced over curiously.

Dean listened for a second then straightened in alarm. “What? When did this happen?”

Tossing, the phone book on the nightstand, Jess stood up and grabbed her shoes shoving her feet into them. It was obvious they were going to miss lunch, because Dean only ever sounded like that when the shit was starting to hit the fan. 

“No, no. Stay there. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He snapped the phone shut and grabbed up his jacket shoving his gun in the inside pocket. 

Jess hurriedly slipped her shoulder holster on and holstered Sam’s gun. She grabbed her little purse and her jacket jogging after Dean out of the motel room. 

“Let me guess.” Jess slammed the passenger door even as Dean was already reversing out of the parking spot. “The spirit just got violent.” 

“Upped the ante with a plumber’s hand in a dispose-all.” 

Jess felt a little queasy at the thought. “Gross.” 

“Call Missouri.” He made a sharp turn and Jess had to grab the door handle to keep from sliding. “Tell her we’re picking her up a little early.”

They made it to Missouri’s in seven minutes and Jess was pretty sure he’d broken the speed limit by thirty miles an hour. 

Missouri was waiting for them on her porch and when she saw them pull up she started down the stairs. She walked stiffly, like she had bad knees or a stiff hip and just as Jess registered that Dean was already out and rounding the car. Meeting her halfway down the walk, he slipped an arm under hers and almost carried her the rest of the way. He opened the backdoor for her and waited just until she pulled her feet inside before slamming it closed and practically sliding over the hood to get back in the car. 

They made it to the house in eight minutes and forty seconds. 

They were almost to the front door when Jenny opened it. 

“You didn’t have to come,” she made a jittery protest. 

“It’s alright,” Jess assured her. “We told you, you could call us.” She put a restraining hand on Dean’s arm trying to keep him from rushing the door and bullying himself inside. 

Thankfully, Jenny didn’t leave them standing on the porch she readily stepped aside. When Missouri stepped across the threshold escorted by Dean, Jenny asked, “Who are you?”

“Jenny, this is Missouri,” Jess introduced. “She’s a family friend.”

“And a psychic,” Dean added gruffly not even bothering to ease her into it. 

“A psychic?” Jenny repeated in surprise looking between them warily. “I don’t understand.” 

“You’ll have to forgive him, honey. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed,” Missouri broke in before either Jess or Dean could say anything. “Why don’t we go sit down and you can tell us what’s happened.”

Jess’s hackles rose and she sent Missouri a look. That was the third time she’d said something disparaging about Dean and despite the seriousness of the situation Jess couldn’t help but be distract by how not happy that made her. 

She could tell that Missouri caught some of the disapproving angry vibes Jess was sending her way, because the older woman glanced at her with an unreadable expression before she turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

“I don’t really know what to tell you. I don’t even know why I called you, it was just an accident,” Jenny said as she led them into the living room. She was obviously a little shaken despite her words. 

Missouri took the lone armchair and Dean stayed standing as Jess and Jenny took the couch. 

“On the phone you told Dean something happened to the plumber,” Jess reminded her, trying to keep her expression comforting. 

Jenny swallowed thickly. “Yes. He came to fix the sink. He wasn’t here twenty minutes when I heard him start screaming.”

“That’s when you came in and found him short a couple fingers,” Dean finished. 

“Yeah.” Jenny ran shaky hands over her cheeks. “I mean I’ve always heard you’re not supposed to stick your hands down the dispose-all, but I didn’t actually think…”

“And why should you, honey?” Missouri commiserated. “That poor man getting hurt? I think you know there was nothing accidental about that.” 

Jenny’s eyes were wide and she was shaking her head back and forth, but Jess could see in her expression that she was trying so hard not to believe what Missouri was saying. 

“Jenny,” Jess reached over and held one of her hands. “There’s something in the house. Something here that wants to hurt you. You know it, don’t you?”

“I-I don’t…” Looking from Dean’s grim expression to Missouri’s sympathy to Jess’s confidence, Jenny finally nodded slowly. “There’s something really wrong here.”

Dean stepped over and crouched down in front of the shaking woman. “Jenny, we can help. That’s what we do.” He looked her in the eyes and let his expression soften. “Me and Jess, we help people.”

“You help people with evil houses?” She asked with an incredulous chuckle.

Dean’s lips twitched up in a small grin. “Not the strangest thing we’ve come across.”

“So the thing about you being a monster hunter?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned full on now. “Closet monsters are actually pretty tame compared to.”

Jess felt herself start to smile as she watched Dean slowly help Jenny relax. He gave her something not horrible to concentrate on, he lifted the mood, and before their eyes, Jenny was loosening up and not looking so overwhelmed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jess could tell that Missouri was watching her. When she turned she saw the speculative look on the woman’s face and Jess just ignored her. Whatever woo-woo waves the woman was picking up from her were less important than making sure Jenny and her kids lived through the day. 

Jess stiffened suddenly. “Where are your kids, Jenny?”

Turning her attention back to Jess, Jenny answered, “Sairie’s at school and Ritchie’s-” Her eyes widened with horror. “He’s in the kitchen.”

Almost faster than Jess could see, Dean was off the floor and running. They were just a couple steps behind him, but they all saw Ritchie’s playpen open and empty. 

“Ritchie?” Jenny pushed into the kitchen and looked around the kitchen frantically. “Ritchie, where are you!?”

“In the fridge!” Missouri directed from where she’d finally come up at Jess’s side slower than the rest. “Dean, the fridge!”

He almost ripped the door off the hinges, the child safety lock was definitely destroyed, and there was little Ritchie crouched on the bottom shelf with a juice cup gripped in his hands. 

“Ritchie!”

“Mommy!” Ritchie held his arms out to his mother dropping the juice cup to the floor. 

In a flash Jenny had him in her arms rocking him back and forth, her eyes tearing up from the fear. Dean cursed under his breath and slammed the fridge closed. 

“Great, the thing’s escalating.”

Jenny glanced at him. “What?”

“This thing, it’s just going to keep getting more and more violent,” Dean said, scowl firmly in place. “Eventually it’s going to kill someone.”

“Boy! Don’t you see you’re scaring the poor girl?” Missouri scolded, glaring at him. 

“She should be scared,” Dean tossed back before turning back to Jenny. “Jenny, we need to get you and your kids out of here. You’re all in real danger now.” 

Jenny was wide eyed and trembling. “Okay, okay. But what are you going to do?”

“We’re going to figure out what exactly this thing is and then we’re going to get rid of it.” 

“How are you going to do that?”

Missouri stepped forward. “I’m a psychic, dear. I’m gonna read the energies of the house and hopefully that will tell us what kind of evil is here.” 

Jess could see it in her eyes, that Jenny was getting overwhelmed again. She walked to Jenny and put a gentle hand on her back. “Come on, let’s go call Sairie’s school. You can pick her up early and take her and Ritchie out for the day.”

Jenny swallowed and adjusted her hold on Ritchie as she nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll go call them now.” 

In less than ten minutes Jenny was in the car pulling out of the driveway with Ritchie in his car seat on the way to pick up Sairie from school. Dean turned from the window watching her drive away a determined look on his face. 

“Let’s get this show on the road.” 

They started in Sairie’s room, in Sam’s old nursery. Jess didn’t feel any more comfortable in the room than she had the last time she’d stood in it. She didn’t know how Dean was keeping his expression so schooled, she knew he had to be hurting even more than she was, but there wasn’t a hint of it on his face. 

Sometimes his ability to hide his emotions from the world was a little unsettling. 

Missouri walked around the room with a distant almost dreamy look on his face. She ghosted her hand over the various and sundry things littered around. After a thorough circle around the room, she dropped her hand from hovering over Sairie’s little red corded phone and turned back to them with a regretful expression. 

“I’m sorry, but I this isn’t the thing that killed your mom and Sam.” She breathed deep, her eyes fluttering. “Its energies are different.”

“Well, can you tell what it is?” Dean asked, trying to keep his impatience from his voice. From the scowl Missouri threw him he hadn’t been successful. 

“Not just it,” she responded cryptically. “Them.” 

Jess swallowed thickly. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Them? There’s more than one.” 

Missouri nodded. “There’s two of them. The first one is definitely what’s after Jenny’s family, but the second…”

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she moved to the closet and opened the doors wide stepping inside then turning to face them. 

“I can’t quite get a read on it.”

Dean huffed frustrated and gritted his teeth. “But you know what the other spirit is?”

Missouri glared at him again and opened her mouth about to respond something scolding and harsh, but Jess put paid to that by mentally projecting as harsh a warning as she could at her. 

The older woman’s eyes flicked toward her and she closed her mouth with a click. She took a steady breath and moved back to the subject. Her expression sobered with the knowledge of what they were up against, her quibble with Dean forgotten. 

“It’s a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.”

Jess’s spine stiffened and her stomach knotted up. A poltergeist. It made perfect horrible sense. The scratching, the lights, the plumbing issues. It must be powerful to cause that many omens. Glancing over at Dean to gage his reaction to the news, she didn’t feel any better at seeing how grim he looked. 

They were in for a difficult hunt that much was obvious. 

“How do we get rid of it?” She asked biting her lip. “I’m guessing we can’t really burn a poltergeist’s bones.”

“I think purifying the house of its negative energy should take care of both spirits,” Missouri answered. 

Jess pasted on a tight grin and clapped her hands in anticipation. “Great. Now how do we do that?”

Apparently they did that by making a bunch of hex bags. They retreated to Missouri’s house where the psychic’s collection of occult cooking supplies were. 

Missouri had pretty much everything they needed to make the hex bags; including the leather squares and cords to wrap the ingredients in. 

Jess sat at Missouri’s kitchen table and surveyed their supplies. Missouri kept her herbs and things more haphazardly organized than Dean did. Jess couldn’t really see her system, but she did recognize a couple of the herbs laid out. 

“Okay, so how do we make these hex bags?” Jess picked up a bundle of what she thought was dried lavender and sniffed it absently. 

“We just gotta put the ingredients together.” Missouri picked up a leather square from the pile and opened a jar pulling out couple of crooked thin roots. “Angelica root, van van oil,” she pour a thin stream of cloudy oil from a glass stoppered cask. “Crossroad dirt,” she sprinkled a pinch over the whole thing and snapped a few leaves from the sprigs of lavender Jess still held. “And lavender. All in that order.” 

It was fascinating. Ever since Jess had grasped the hex bag Dean has gifted her in the hospital and felt its power wash over her she’d been curious. She read all the books Dean had about rituals and magic like that, researched as much as she could on the internet though she could never tell what was bull and what was legit. But you could do all the research and academic exploration in the world and it still wasn’t as good of a teacher as hands on experience. 

She looked up at Missouri, not even trying to hide her eagerness. “Teach me.” 

Missouri get her a kind smile and sat next to her at the table. She gestured for Dean to join them. “Well, come on, boy. It’s good you learn this too.” 

Dean didn’t protest. Just pulled up a chair and promptly proceeded to pinch some odd looking seeds out of a bowl in front of him. He sniffed them curiously and stuck them in his mouth. 

Missouri smirked at him in amusement. “That’s a good laxative if you need it.”

Jess didn’t try to stifle her laugh at the look on Dean’s face as he spewed the weird looking seeds everywhere. 

It took them a little over two hours to get the hex bags finished. They would have been finished sooner, but Jess took longer on hers. She’d never made a hex bag before and she didn’t want to mess it up. Dean on the other hand had made a fair few of different ones in his life and Missouri, of course, was very experienced. 

They called and told Jenny to stay out until they called with the all clear so when they made it back to her house it was empty and dark. 

Jess stamped viciously down on her nerves. She had a few hunts under belt so this should be a piece of cake. Just put her hex bag in the walls upstairs on the four directions of a compass.

Dean had the first floor and Missouri had the basement. It should be a piece of cake. 

Jess snorted internally. She really had to stop saying that. She was starting to get an aversion. 

“Remember,” Dean murmured to her as they closed the front door behind them. “Get it done as fast as possible and if anything moves-”

“I know,” Jess nodded taking just as much comfort as annoyance at Dean’s protectiveness. “Shoot the shit out of it.” 

Dean stared at her seeming to think something over then he just shook his head and reached out to grasp her shoulder. “Be careful.” 

Jess nodded seriously and wrapped her hand around his wrist giving it a squeeze. “You too.” 

They separated, Dean into the living room and Jess toward the stairs with her shot gun held tightly in her hand. Before she stepped up, she saw Missouri looking at her with an unreadable expression. 

“What?” She asked curiously. 

The older woman gave her a smile and shook her head. “Nothing, honey. Just be careful.” 

Jess nodded, “Thanks. You too,” and jogged up the stairs. 

Gouging a hole in the drywall with a crowbar on the landing at the top of stairs and shoving a hex back inside was easier than she thought it would be. She waiting a breath to see in anything jumped out to try and kill her. When nothing did, she hurriedly moved to Ritchie’s room.

When she got to the hall bathroom she cringed. She had to shove the crowbar into the wall and pry a couple of the shower tiles off to get to the drywall. That was going to be a bitch to repair, but she figured Jenny would rather be safe in her house and have to retile her bathroom than not. 

She’d moved through the upstairs quicker than she’d thought. It almost seemed like she’d be able to get it all done without having any problems. 

Almost. 

She was kneeling on the floor in Jenny’s bedroom about to stab the crowbar through the flowery wallpaper when she was smashed in the back with a heavy ceramic lamp. The impact dropped her to the floor, little shards of ceramic scratching at her neck and arms. Her shotgun had gone skidding across the hardwood floor and she scrambled for it. 

Her fingers just barely brushed the worn wooden stock when a thick electrical cord whipped itself around her neck and yanked her onto her back. 

She couldn’t breathe. The cord was wrapped three times around her neck and it was squeezing so tight she could barely get her fingers between it and her skin. She tugged and pulled strained, but it wouldn’t budge. In fact it just got tighter. It was a blink from cutting all of her air supply and her mind was a mess of jabbering panic. 

Distantly Jess could hear a frightened scream from downstairs in the basement and a clatter of silverware from the kitchen. 

She had to breathe. She had to get that hex bag in the wall. She had to not to let Dean down. She had to freaking breathe!

She couldn’t even grab for her knife to try to slice through cord because if she even moved her fingers for a second she knew the cord was like to take her head clean off. There were black spots in her vision, her lungs were burning, and her mind was so full of panic she was just screaming inside. 

When the cord finally cut off her air supply entirely her body went limp and all she could think about was that she failed and Dean would die. 

She came-to held upright against Dean’s chest sucking in air like it was going out of style. He had an arm around her shoulders keeping her pressed against him and his other hand cradling the back of her head keeping it steady. 

“Jeeze, Jess. Just breathe. You’re okay. Just breathe with me.” 

Jess sucked in a painful breath the motion making her throat ache. “I’m okay.” She gasped. “I’m okay.” 

Dean pulled back his eyes flicking over her face, his palm warm against her cheek. “Take deep breaths. Slowly.” 

She made an effort to do as he said and stop herself from panting. It helped. The fog lifted from her head and she started to shake, shock getting to her. Fisting her hands in Dean’s shirt, Jess forcibly pushed down the lingering effects of her panic. 

“Did we get it? Is it over?”

A gust of air escaped Dean, his shoulders loosening and his stiff hold on her eased. He made sure she was steady sitting up on her own and pulled away. “Yeah. I kicked a hole in the wall. There was a flash of bright light and poof, no more poltergeist.” 

He nodded toward the boot sized hole in the wall smirking. Jess could tell the expression was fake. 

Rubbing a shaky had over her throat she gave him a forced grin. “Good. Breath play isn’t really my thing.”

Dean burst out in surprised laughter. Jess’s grin turned real and she gave a croaky chuckle as well. 

“Come on.” Getting to his feet, amusement still alight in his eyes, Dean reached down and pulled her up. “Let’s go check on Missouri. Make sure it’s really done.” 

Jess was a little unsteady on her feet and Dean let her lean on him as they made their way down the stairs. Missouri met them at the bottom a little out of breath. 

“Whoo. I don’t want to do that again anytime soon.” She put a hand on her hip and wiped some dust from her forehead. 

Jess snorted and shook her head. 

“I hear ya’, sister.” Dean grinned at her.

Everyone was relatively unharmed. Dean had a sharp slice across his cheek and Missouri had a limp, and not to mention the truly spectacular bruising starting to appear around Jess’s throat, but they were all in one piece. 

They wandered into the kitchen and Jess got a look at it. It looked like a bomb had gone off. There was food spilled all over, the table was on its side pin cushioned with kitchen knives, not to mention the mine field of shattered dishes on the floor. 

“Well, this is lovely.”

Missouri snorted and pointed at Dean. “Boy, you’re going be cleaning every last inch of this kitchen. Just look at this mess.” She tisked. 

Dean looked at her incredulously. “What?”

“You’re the one that made it. And don’t cuss at me,” she snapped at him. 

And Jess was just so done. Her throat hurt, she was tired, and she was still slightly shocky from her most recent brush with death. Missouri had officially worn out Jess’s dwindling well of patience. Dean was hers and damned if she was going to let a self-righteous know-it-all psychic treat him with any less respect than he deserved. 

“That is it.” She angrily rounded on Missouri. “Not one more disparaging word to him or you won’t like what I’ll do to you.” 

Missouri’s eyes widened and there was a flash of defiance in her expression. 

Jess narrowed her eyes. “Just try it, lady. I dare you.” 

There was a tense silence while they stared each other down. Jess gave no ground, her protectiveness of Dean flaming in her eyes. Missouri caved first. 

“I’ve been told I’m a little abrasive.” 

Jess sneered. “No shit.” 

Missouri looked at her for a long moment, held her gaze again like she could see everything that went through Jess’s mind. Which she could. 

Her face softened and regret came into her eyes. She turned to Dean. 

“I’m sorry, Dean.” She gave him a small smile. “I shouldn’t be so hard on you. You’re a good man and you don’t deserve that.” 

Jess could read every ounce of sincerity on Missouri’s face. The woman wasn’t hiding anything from them, her feelings were out on display as if they were the mind readers. 

It went a long way to cooling Jess’s temper. She liked the woman, wanted to foster a friendship with her, but she wouldn’t stand for any threat to Dean. Even if it was just the threat of some harsh words. 

Dean on the other hand looked like he didn’t know whether to be shocked by Jess’s outburst or uncomfortable with Missouri’s apology. 

In the end he just nodded acceptance and murmured, “Thank you.” 

Missouri smiled at him again and nodded back. She looked at Jess waiting for her judgment. 

Jess’s lips quirked up and she nodded as well in forgiveness. “I’d like to be friends, Missouri. I think if you keep a civil tongue in your head we can be.” 

Missouri’s face lightened and she grinned. “I’d like that too, honey.” 

The rest of the evening was spent cleaning up the kitchen and duct taping cardboard over the holes in the walls. Jenny had come home twenty minutes after Jess had put the call out. She looked so relieved that it was all over she didn’t even care about the devastation in her kitchen. 

It was well past Sairie and Ritchie’s bed time by the time the kitchen was in relative order and Jenny was ushering the three of them out the door. 

“Thank you so much.” 

“It’s nothing, darling,” Missouri assured her. “We’re just happy we could help.” 

“Still, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to repay you?” 

Jess put a hand on Jenny’s arm and squeezed in comfort. “This is what we do. We help people.” 

Jenny took a deep breath and finally nodded. “Well, thanks again.” 

Dean was almost to the porch steps with Missouri leaning on his arm when he turned back. 

“Jenny, keep our numbers and if anything comes up, if you need our help again, don’t hesitate to call.” 

Her eyes were soft on Dean and she nodded. “I will.” 

Dean and Jess escorted Missouri back to the Impala in companionable silence. All of them were a little achy but satisfied with a successful hunt. 

Jess didn’t say anything about the sad wistful look Dean shot back at the house before he pulled away from the curb and drove away. 

*

Their motel room was oppressively silent when they finally got back. Jess didn’t bother to take her boots off before she flopped down on her bed and closed her eyes. 

Dean had gone straight to the bathroom and turned the water on to start scrubbing clean the few cuts he’d gotten from the flying cutlery. Jess concentrated on her deep breathing through the stiff soreness of her throat listening to sound of him moving around in the bathroom. 

She’d meditated herself into a daze so when a wet ice cold beer bottle was pressed against her neck she jerk up with a surprised yelp. 

“Fuck! That’s cold!” She snatched the bottle away from him and glared accusingly. 

Dean just waved a hand and went to grab up their first aid kit. “The cold will keep the swelling down. Keep it there.” 

Jess, still frowning sullenly, pressed the bottle back to her bruised neck. 

Dropping the first aid kit on the bed next to her, Dean popped it open and reached for her with the wet washcloth he’d had in his other hand. She flinched away from him but he just chased her and started scrubbing at the little scrapes and nicks across her right cheek and neck. 

“Hold still. Gotta get ‘em clean and make sure there’s no lamp still stuck in them.” 

She grumbled but did as she was told, switching sides with the beer bottle when he moved down to scrubbing at her arm. The cold was helping numb the ache and she was breathing a little easier without the constant tightening. When Dean pulled out the rubbing alcohol and started swabbing it over the little wounds, Jess didn’t even flinch.

Over the months on the road she’d gotten used to the sting of alcohol on an open wound. 

Dean collapsed back on his own bed when he was satisfied she wasn’t going to die from infected nicks and scrapes. Jess lay back down on her bed as well and they both just stared up at the ceiling blankly. 

They were quiet for a few minutes before Jess broke the silence. 

“On a scale of one to fuck-we’re-dead, how bad was that poltergeist?”

Dean thought for a second. “I give it a five point nine. It didn’t do much structural damage, but the guy with his hand in the disposal gets extra points.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Jess nodded. “But it was still pretty bad.” 

“You should have seen Jerry Panowski’s poltergeist. That thing was literally pulling up the floor boards and bursting pipes in the walls.” 

“Yeah, that sounds worse than getting strangled by a lamp cord.” 

Dean turned his head to look at her his expression dark. “There is nothing worse than you getting strangled by a lamp cord.” 

Jess’s stomach flipped and she turned her gaze back up to the ceiling. “Thanks, by the way. For saving me.” 

There was a shift of fabric on fabric like Dean was shrugging. “You’re my partner,” he said. “Of course I wasn’t gonna let you get killed by a crappy Kmart lamp. It would ruin my reputation.” 

Jess snorted and switched sides with her beer bottle again. It was starting to get warm, but she wasn’t ready to get up and get a new one just yet. 

“Well, don’t worry. Your reputation is fully intact.” 

Suddenly Jess’s pocket started to vibrate and ring. Dropping the beer bottle to the mattress cover, she struggled to pull her phone out of her tiny, girl jean pocket. She glanced at the caller I.D. and a spike of adrenaline hit her. 

She flipped it open quickly. 

“Missouri?” 

“You need to get back to Jenny’s house, Jess,” Missouri said urgently. “Somehow we didn’t get rid of it and it’s going to kill them!” 

Jess snapped the phone shut without responding and jumped off the bed. “We have to go back!” She jogged to the door, Dean already following without needing to be told. “It’s still there.”

Cursing, Dean slammed the motel door behind them and jumped into the Impala revving the engine and speeding away.

They made it to Jenny’s house in record time. When they pulled up in front they could see Jenny on the second floor banging on her bedroom window and screaming. Dean and Jess were out of the car almost before the engine had even turned off. 

Running up the front yard, Dean overtook Jess and barreled through the front door with his shoulder without stopping. 

“I’ll get Jenny! You get the kids!” Dean yelled as he bounded up the stairs Jess not three feet behind him. 

She skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs in front of Ritchie’s room she burst into the room and found the little boy standing up in his crib with tears down his cheeks. Grabbing Ritchie up, Jess held him on her hip cradling the back of his head with her hand.

Darting across the hall, she heard a gunshot from the end of the hallway but she didn’t slow down. She knew Dean would get Jenny out. 

She shoved the door to Sairie’s room open and stumbled to a halt. There standing at the end of Sairie’s bed was a figure on fire. It was in the shape of a human, she could see in the split second she was staring at it in shock, and it was completely engulfed in flames. 

A whimper snapped her back to attention. Sairie was sitting up in her bed, crying, her eyes pinned on the figure burning up in the middle of her room.

“Sairie!” Jess edged into the room, keeping her eyes on the figure she reached out her free hand toward the little girl. “Sairie, come on. We gotta go!”

Jumping, Sairie lunged out of her bed and grabbed onto Jess’s hand like a lifeline. 

Pulling the girl behind her, Jess edged sideways back toward the door still watching the figure as it turned to watch them. It didn’t move until they got to the door then it took a step forward. She didn’t wait to see it move again, she turned around and ran down the stairs as fast she could with a little girl holding onto her hand and a little boy wrapped around her torso. 

They hit the bottom and Jess took a step toward the door when she felt her legs freeze up and a chill race up her spine. 

“Sairie,” she pried Ritchie off her and shoved him at his sister. “Take your brother outside as fast as you can.” Something grabbed her ankles and her eyes widened. “Go, Sairie! Go.”

She didn’t even get to see if the little girl followed her order because the thing that had her ankles yanked her to the floor and dragged her back into the house. The sound of the door slamming reached her ears before it swung her around and sent her flying into some cabinets. 

Outside Dean stood with his hands gripping Jenny’s arms to keep her from running back into the house after her kids. His heart was racing and the adrenaline was keeping all of his senses sharp. He was on a pin’s head as it was from this whole fucked up hunt and the fact that Jess hadn’t beat them out of the house was just making it all that much more scary. 

When he saw Sairie and Ritchie run out of the house without Jess, he felt his gut clench. 

“Sairie, where’s Jess?”

“It took her!” Sairie cried. “It dragged her away.” 

The front door slammed shut with a bang and Dean felt his face go cold as all the blood drained out of it. Straightening up, he turned on his heel and skidded across the lawn to the Impala. He almost gouged the paint job with the trunk key as he hurried to get it unlocked. 

It didn’t take more than a second before he had a shotgun in one hand and an ax in the other. He ran through the small group of neighbors on the lawn drawn toward the disturbance and jumped the stairs up to the porch. Dropping the gun, he gripped the ax with both hands and swung it as hard as he could. 

The blade sunk in an inch and he didn’t pause between swings. Distantly he could hear the shouts of alarm from the people gathered on the lawn crowding around Jenny and the kids, but he was solely focused on chopping down the fucking door to get to Jess. 

He swore nothing was going to happen to Jess. He’d dragged her out of a fire from underneath his brother’s burning body, he protected her in the hospital, taught her how to survive the life of a hunter. He resisted eating a bullet because she needed him. He needed her just as much if not more than she needed him. 

Hacking away at the door, Dean gritted his teeth and sped up as the first slivers of the entranceway could be seen through the wood. 

Jessica had saved him. She made life worth living again. She was his partner, his friend. She was his family. 

A fucking poltergeist haunting his old childhood home was going to take her away from him over his dead body. 

He dropped the ax when the lower half of the door started falling away and kicked the rest of the way through with his boot. Snatching up his shotgun again he stooped down through the opening shouting into the dark house. 

“Jess! Jessica!”

A scream and the sounds of a body and furniture being tossed around came from the back of the house. 

“Dean!”

“I’m coming!” He pounding down the hall through the house and bounced off a wall when he tried to take the sharp turn into the living and dining room. 

Jess was curling into herself with her arms up trying to protect her head while shards of china and glass from the china cabinet flew around her. 

Dean raised the shot gun. “Jessica, down!”

She dropped, a blast of rock salt above her head and the china and glass fell out of the air. The chairs and wood from the cabinet scattered around the room began shaking furiously as Jess raised her head looking at Dean with wide frightened eyes. 

He made to move toward her as she tried to scramble to stand, but suddenly a chair slammed into Dean knocking him off his feet. 

Hitting the floor painfully on his shoulder, Dean rolled on his belly and tried to get to his feet again. Somehow he’d kept ahold of his shotgun so when another chair came flying toward him he angled his wrist and pulled the trigger. The shot made his ears ring but it stopped the chair from smashing over his head. 

Jess called his name in fear and he jerked his head around in time to see the dining room table slide across the floor and hit her in stomach hard enough to knock her back into the wall. It pinned her there. Her breath whooshed out of her with the impact and she scrabbled her hands against the edge trying futilely to shove it away. 

“Dean!” She sounded half suffocated darting panicked frantic looks at him. “I’m stuck!” 

Cursing under his breath he released the empty shotgun and shoved himself to his feet. He had made it three feet toward Jess when the burning figure turned the corner and stepped into the room. His heart was pounding. His fear for Jess and his drive to protect her had him reflexively pulling out his pistol and aiming it at the figure, his gaze hard. 

It turned its burning head toward him but before he could pull the trigger it started to change. It was like a gust of wind blew the flames away to reveal a beautiful blond woman in a long white nightgown looking at him with soft blue eyes. 

Dean lowered his gun in shock. “Mom?” 

He didn’t think he could breathe. 

Jess stared from Dean to the ghost of the woman in flames and tried to force words out with the table still pressing her diaphragm into her spine. 

“Dean? Is that…”

“My mom,” he breathed in awe. 

The woman, Mary, smiled softly at Dean and flickered closer in that eerie way spirits had. Jess’s chest hitched and her eyes widened. 

Mary’s gentle blue eyes were staring at Dean like he was of one the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. 

“Dean,” she murmured tenderly, her voice had an echo. 

Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman that gave birth to him, that held him when he cried, always told him she loved him. He blinked hard trying to keep the tears in his eyes from blurring her image. 

It felt like his chest was too tight for his heart to keep beating. 

Mary’s gaze slid past Dean and landed on Jess still pinned to the wall watching the scene with wariness and awe. 

She took a step toward Jess her image flickering forward until she was standing next to the table keeping Jess in place. Dean’s eyes followed her like a flower to the sun. 

Jess looked at the woman standing in front of her. She was beautiful; soft lips, freckles across her nose and cheeks, high cheekbones, and long wavy hair. Jess could see Sam in her chin and brow, but it was obvious that he took more after John. Dean looked so much like his mom it was startling. 

Mary ran her gaze over Jess’s face and gave her just as gentle a smile as she’s given Dean. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, gratitude reflected in her clear blue eyes. 

Jess’s heart clenched and she held the woman’s gaze in confusion. “For what?”

Mary just smiled a little sadly and glanced back to her son who was watching them like he couldn’t believe his eyes, like he was afraid to blink.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured pain and regret in her voice. Then she looked away. 

She moved flickering every other step to the center of the room and looked up at the ceiling with an expression of righteous fury on her face. 

“You let go of my son’s girl,” she ordered. “And get out of my house.” 

Dean and Jess watched with wide eyes as Mary Winchester burst into flames and exploded into the ceiling disappearing without leaving behind a mark. 

Suddenly the table against Jess’s belly shifted back with a scrape on the wood floor and she could take a full breath again. 

She shoved it away from her and stumbled toward Dean grabbing his arm tightly. 

“Dean?”

Slowly, as if in a daze Dean looked away from the spot on the ceiling where Mary had disappeared and back down to Jess. 

“I think it’s over,” he said voice rough and green eyes still glistening. “I think she destroyed it.”

Jess dropped her forehead to Dean’s shoulder and breathed slow, fine tremors running through her body. They stood silently together in the middle of the chaos strewn dining room until firefighters broke down the rest of the door and burst into the room.

*

Jenny, Sairie, and Richie were safe. Their house was poltergeist free and they knew they would never forget their saviors for the rest of their lives. 

The grateful smile on Jenny’s face as she watched them climb into the Impala and drive off would stay in Jess’s mind for a long time to come. The almost painfully tight hug Sairie gave her around her bruised middle and the childishly thankful offer of a juice box from Richie were what made the entire horrifying case worth it. 

It was the look on Dean’s face, however, as they drove away from the old house that made Jess ache with satisfaction. 

The ever present shadows that haunted his expressions, darkened his eyes, and made the lines and creases of his face stand out too starkly for a man in his twenties, had lessened. His shoulders were loose and his hands were light on the steering wheel. His elbow was propped up on his window and he was stretched in his seat relaxed in a way he hadn’t been since they’d gotten that ominous phone call. 

Jess studied him surreptitiously from her seat. Maybe it was the satisfaction of saving a young family, or the gratifying success of banishing a poltergeist. Or maybe it was that Dean had found a measure of closure from this utterly fucked up case. 

She didn’t know if it was possible to find closure when your mother had been burned on the ceiling by an unknown evil, when your entire life changed in the course of a night, when your dead mother destroyed herself saving you from a murderous spirit. 

But looking at Dean, at the relaxed expression on his face and the comfortable sprawl in the driver’s seat as he guided his only home down the blacktop highway, Jess knew she would be forever thankful for this utterly fucked up case. 

The Impala gave a small bounce over a bump in the road causing the wooden box on the backseat to creak. Jess turned and looked at it debating with herself whether she wanted to open that potential can of worms. It was almost like an itch beneath her skin, the want to see what the Winchester family at been like once upon a time. 

“Go ahead.” Dean shifted in his seat and gave Jess a little smirk. “I know you want to.”

That was all the permission she needed. Stretching over the seatback she hefted the heavy box with a strained grunt. 

Falling back into her seat with the box in her lap, Jess flipped the lid open without fanfare and stared at the contents. It was a picture of a little boy in a recliner holding a little baby. Dean and Sam. 

Her throat tightened up for a moment then she swallowed thickly and pushed it all back down. She turned to Dean brandishing the photo. 

“I didn’t realize your hair was so blond.” 

He took a quick glance at the picture and snorted. “Why do you think I keep it short? Looked like a damn pretty boy with all that wavy blond hair.”

Jess looked back down at the photo grinning. Picking up another picture she looked at it and laughed. She held it up for Dean’s perusal. 

“Well, with eyelashes like that, who wouldn’t think you were pretty?”

It was school portrait of him for preschool and sure enough you could see his annoyingly long eyelashes. He snatched it away from her and tossed it in the backseat scowling. 

“Shut up. It’s not like yours are much better.”

Jess just chuckled and went back to perusing the photographic evidence of a happier time. She decided not to mention that since she was, in fact, a girl she was expected to have delicate features. She didn’t think Dean would have appreciated that. 

*

Missouri stood at her living room window and watched the hummingbirds flitter around the feeder hanging from her porch. She felt the presence of Jess and Dean’s cracked, battered, but unbreakable souls get farther and farther away. 

“Why your daddy didn’t let them know he was here, I don’t know.” She turned away from the window and regarded the spirit in her living room shrewdly. 

Sam Winchester shrugged, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Who knows with him. I stopped trying to figure him out a long time ago.” 

“You know John loves you boys something fierce.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean he’s not a dick.” 

Missouri huffed at him. “Boy, don’t you talk about your father that way.” 

“I’m dead, Missouri. It’s not like I can piss him off anymore.”

Missouri sighed and moved back toward her armchair. Sitting down she lifted her mug of tea from the coffee table and took a sip. 

Sam followed flopping down on the couch and stretching out propping his feet up on the coffee table. Missouri lifted an eyebrow and him and he quickly dropped them back to the floor with a sheepish smile. She went back to her tea. 

“Sam,” Missouri spoke up after a moment of quiet. “Why didn’t you want me to tell them you were here? I know they would have dearly wanted to talk to you.” 

Looking down at his hands in his lap, Sam frowned. “I know they would.” 

“Then why have me keep it a secret?” She pressed. “You’re the one that had me call them about the thing in your old house.”

Sam took a deep breath and looked back up at her, sadness in his eyes. 

“Because they would have wanted me to go with them,” he said quietly. “They would have forgotten all that they’d been through together, they would have forgotten all they are to each other now, how much they have healed. Because they would have wanted to be with me.” 

Missouri’s heart ached for him. “Oh, honey.”

He shrugged and gave her a self-deprecating smirk. “They’re not ready to know I’ve still been around.” 

“You must miss them something terrible,” she offered, gazing at him in sympathy.

“God yeah,” Sam breathed, feeling though it was no longer corporeal, like his heart was breaking. “I miss them so fucking much.” 

Missouri decided to let the language slide and smiled understandingly. “But you love them more.” 

He gave a strained chuckle and nodded. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he looked back at her and smiled wryly.

“But I love them more.”

*

TBC…


	9. More Than Just Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess could have done without the mildly cryptic phone call, but at least she and Dean have some answers now. They just can’t let it distract them from the murderous bag of straw.

*

Jess was fairly sure she was about to die. Like for real die. Though ever since she’d followed Dean on his quest to rid the world of evil she’d thought she was about to die at least five times a week. Not counting weekends and after business hours. 

Regardless of being confronted with her mortality more in a week than the past twenty-two years of her life she’d never actually thought she’d die like this. On her back in a haunted insane asylum in the evil lair of a crazy shrink with a chest full of rock salt. Much less she never thought she’d die from a bullet to the head with Dean behind the trigger. 

“Okay, seriously, Dean. You really don’t want to do this.” 

She gritted her teeth and tried to scoot backward across the gross slimy floor, the bits and pieces of torn up mildewy crumbling sheetrock catching on her every move. Her pockmarked chest was beading with blood and stung like a son of a bitch. Now she really knew just how much getting salt literally rubbed in an open wound sucked. 

A lot. It sucked a lot if anyone was wondering. 

Next time they decided to hunt a crazy doctor that liked to turn people into nose bleeding dicks with homicidal anger management issues she was so wearing a bulletproof vest. It shouldn’t be too hard to find one of those. Dean seemed to have no problem stocking up his trunk armory with unregistered guns. One girl-sized bulletproof vest shouldn’t be a problem at all. 

“Oh you have no idea how much I want to do this.” Dean gave her this really disturbing half smirk half maniacal baring of teeth. “Do know how annoying it is to watch you eat French fries? Could you get any slower? I mean who the hell eats one freaking French fry a minute?”

Jess was pretty sure she was getting stabbed in the kidney by a rusty nail. She spared a moment from her indignation to be thankful she was up on all her shots. 

“Well excuse me if I happen to like savoring deep fried greasy potatoes.” Jess tried to scowl at him as the panicked thoughts racing of her mind worked to find a way out of this. “At least I don’t make orgasm noises every time I eat a crappy diner burger.” 

“Hey! Don’t besmirch diner burgers. They’re a gift from the gods.” 

It was almost funny how insulted he got even through the spirit induced rage. Almost funny if you didn’t pay any attention to the steady stream of blood dripping from his nose and smearing all down his lips and chin. 

The sight reminded her of the eyeball bleeding Bloody Mary was so fond of. Jess wondered if maybe they were gonna eventually accrue some kind of permanent sinus damage if these freaking ghosts kept making them bleed out of their facial orifices. 

Dean was still stalking menacingly toward her and Jess couldn’t help the little hysterical giggle at her line of thought. Really it was amazing the kind of stuff your brain came up with when you were in imminent danger of being shot by your supernatural hunting partner. 

“For real, Dean. You’re gonna feel really bad about this later if you shoot me. I mean, come on! We’re partners. You don’t shoot your partner in the head because a dead mad scientist told you to. That’s like the opposite of the bro code!”

Dean grinned that creepy grin at her again, his teeth stained with blood. “Good thing you’re not a guy then isn’t it.” He pulled the hammer back on his Colt with an ominous click.

“Fuck.” Jess’s heart was pounding and she grimaced in regret. “Sorry about this.” 

Dean was looming over her, his feet were planted on either side of her left leg and he was in just the right spot. She jerked her leg up without warning and kicked him directly in the nuts.

The look of horrified shock on his face was totally worth the sharp pain of that rusty nail stabbing her in the back. The agonized falsetto whimper was just the icing on the cake. Jess really wanted to gloat a little over the fact that it was the first time ever she’d gotten one over on him in a fight. Sure it was a dirty shot and they were in the middle of a life or death situation with an insane ghost controlling one of them so it wasn’t really a fair fight, but hey. She’ll take what she can get. 

Victory over Dean regardless, Jess still really had to burn those bones because scary mad scientist ghost had just flickered into being about five feet away and he looked a little pissed. 

Dean had dropped his gun to clutch at his crotch as he shakily collapsed to his knees. Jess had to scurry out of range before he keeled over and trapped her right leg beneath him. Possessed by a rage ghost and cradling his balls or not he was still around two hundred pounds of muscle. Jess highly doubted she’d be able to budge him even without the malevolent spirit flickering angrily toward her. 

Jess lunged toward their discarded duffle of salt and lighter fluid then gave a startled yelp when her ankle was gripped in an icy fist and she was yanked backward. She slid across the slimy floor and she had a fleeting thought to how absolutely disgusting that was before the spirit flipped her over on her back again and started dragging her closer. 

Clinching her jaw she kicked out and, surprisingly, actually shook off the spirit’s hold. She didn’t waste a second more. Scrabbling for the duffle again she pulled it toward her and grabbed for the tube of salt conveniently sitting on top. Holding it in a white knuckled grip Jess darted her eyes around frantically for any sign of where the insane patients could have stashed their tormentor. 

Her other hand just barely got a hold of a bottle of lighter fluid when the ghost of Dr. Ellicot grabbed her by the back of her shirt and flung her across the room. 

“Yipe!”

The sound of the seams popping on her five dollar Wall-Mart t-shirt was swallowed up by the painful thud of her landing on the concrete floor and skidding a few good feet on impact. She collided with a beat up storage cabinet, the hinges in its door caved in with her weight. 

The door was dislodged and the distinctive stench of wrinkly corpse hit her nose about the same time she rolled back onto her stomach. Jess didn’t even check to make sure it was the right corpse she just scrambled up on her knees and dumped the entire container of salt on the gray skeletal body and squirted enough lighter fluid on top to start a bonfire. She sacrificed the beat up bic lighter she’d pocketed from the Impala’s glovebox and nearly lost her eyebrows in the fire ball that erupted from Ellicot’s mummified remains. 

Behind her Ellicot screeched and she turned just in time to see him collapse in a pile of dust. 

Blowing out a relieved breath she plopped back onto her butt and just panted until her heart slowed down. 

A groan caught her attention and she watched unsympathetically as Dean painfully tried to uncurl from his protective fetal position. 

“Aw, Jessie. Did you have to go for the nuts?” He sounded a little pre-pubescent.

Jess scoffed. “I had to keep you from turning my birthmark to a bullet hole somehow.”

“Yeah, but the nuts? That’s just cruel.” One hand still cradling his manly bits, Dean used the other to push himself upright. The process looked painful. 

“Tell that to my boobs. My cleavage will probably never be the same.” 

He gave a strained chuckled. “Touche. Does this mean we’re even then?” 

Rolling her eyes at just how hopeful he sounded, Jess nodded and used the still burning corpse filled storage cabinet to lever herself to standing. 

“Yeah, we’re even.” She flashed him a smirk. “Besides I had to roast your naked lady lighter. You know the one with the heat sensitive disappearing bikini. That was a bonus.”

“Man,” Dean grumbled as Jess grabbed his hand and ungracefully tugged him to his feet. “I liked that lighter.” 

She smirked again and wrapped his arm around her shoulders keeping him from trying to curl up over his aching balls again. They limped and stumbled to the hole in the secret evil lab’s secret entrance, Jess snatching up their duffle on the way. 

“Come on. We’ve got an idiot boy and his trigger happy girlfriend to escort back to their car.” 

They were both walking wounded and exhausted despite the usual rush of a hunt well done. Jess was pretty sure they were going to forego the usual celebratory strip club in favor of a bottle of cheap whisky in their motel room and a couple of strategically placed ice-bags. 

She wasn’t too beat up about it though. It was Dean’s turn to pick the club and washing off fruity scented body glitter was a pain in the ass. 

*

By the time they finished another ghost hunt and an infestation of bundimums in a new housing development, Jess’s boobs were healed up and Dean had stopped walking around even more bowlegged than normal. Unfortunately, Jess lost her favorite pair of boots to a loogy of bundimum acid and Dean got whacked on the head by an angry dead eighty year old man’s cane. 

It was ass o’clock in the morning, they were both hungover, and smelled like sweaty fireman stripper (it was Jess’s turn to pick) when Dean’s cell started blaring the grating mullet rock song of the week. 

“Dean,” Jess groaned, the miniature dwarfs in her skull chipping away at her brain. “Dean, your phone.” 

He just grunted, spread eagle across his bed not a muscle moved from his face down. 

“Dean, your phone’s ringing.” She tried rolling over just to gag and swallow a little tequila flavored throw up in the back of her throat. 

There was a snort and mumble of, “Please, not the g-string,” but Dean didn’t budge an inch. 

“Fuck.” Jess fought her gag reflex and painfully reached over fumbling for the phone flipping it open and pressing it to her ear. Well, the vicinity of her ear. Her aim was kind of off when she was this hungover. 

“’Lo?”

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Hello?”

There was a long pause where all she could hear was muffled road noise, heavy breathing, her pounding head, and her roiling stomach. “You gonna say something, Mr. Heavy Breather, or are you gonna keep being creepy?”

This time she got a hitch and the static crackle of more breathing. She gritted her teeth in frustration.

“Dude, I am hungover, I smell like sweaty muscly stripper, and I fell asleep in my bra. You better have a damn good reason for calling or I’m coming through the phone to kick your ass.”

Finally she got a response.

“You’re Jessica, right?” The voice was deep and rough and brought to mind an image of a man rough and big to match.

She scowled because the last time someone called already knowing her name she almost got strangled by a lamp and Dean was emotionally traumatized. 

“Who the hell is this?”

The man on the other side answered after a long beat. “I’m John Winchester.” 

Bolting up right her suppressed urge to vomit and agonizing headache were temporarily forgotten. “John Winchester!?”

Dean’s head shot up from where he was being smothered by his pillow, his eyes widened, and his entire body tensed. He jumped up from the mattress before Jess could blink in surprise and practically tackled her. 

“Gah!” Dean’s body impacted with hers and she lost her grip on the phone as two hundred pounds of ripe hunter landed on top of her. The air was knocked out of her lungs and she almost got clotheslined as Dean scrambled for the phone. 

“Dad!” He knocked himself in the eye in his haste to bring the phone to his head. 

Jess squeaked and shoved at Dean’s chest trying to get his heavy ass off her so she could breathe. “Off! Off! Off!” 

Apparently he was listening through his shock because he followed the direction of one of her shoves and rolled off to the left. His knee collided sharply with her inner thigh, but Jess ignored it in favor of not suffocating. 

“Dad, where are you?” Dean shouted into the phone. “What’s going on? Where have you been?”

“Dean, you’re going to have to trust me.” John’s deep voice was clear to Jess even without being on speakerphone. 

“What?” Dean frowned in confusion. “Dad, what are you-”

“I’ve been hunting it, Dean.” 

He choked on a sharp inhale and Jess frowned, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him. 

“It’s a demon, Dean. The thing that killed your mother and-” the man’s heavy swallow was clear through the line and his next words were strained with grief. “And Sam.” 

Dean made a high sound in the back of his throat and a cold weight hit Jess’s stomach. 

“A demon?”

“Yeah,” John confirmed grimly. “I’m closing in on it. I’m so close.”

“Dad, you gotta let us help. You can’t do this by yourself. Tell us where you are. We can help.” Dean sounded desperate. He was almost begging. Jess’s heart was suddenly pounding. 

A demon. A demon pinned her to the ceiling and burned up their selfless, beloved Sam. A demon killed beautiful, fierce Mary Winchester. A demon that took single minded, terrifying John Winchester twenty-two years to track down. 

Jess didn’t even have to ask. It was deadly obvious that this demon was in a class all its own. Far above her and Dean’s little airplane saboteur. 

“You can’t help me, Dean,” John growled through the line. “You and Jessica stay far away from this. Stop looking for me and stop trying to contact me. I don’t want either of you anywhere near this.” 

“Bullshit, Dad! We have just as much a stake in killing this thing as you do,” Dean snarled into the receiver. 

Jess’s eyes widened. From what she’d gleaned from John’s journal and the few kernels Dean let drop, she put together that John Winchester was the kind of man that demanded respect and obedience. She’d figured out that Sam had been the rebellious one and Dean had been the obedient son, the peace keeper, the perfect soldier in his father’s quest of revenge. 

She was surprised to hear Dean actually cuss at his father much less refuse a direct order. Judging by the tense silence over the line, John was just as shocked. 

A tense moment later, John seemed to gather his thoughts. 

“You’re right. You and Jessica have a right to kill the thing that took our family from us, as well.”

John’s words stalled out whatever Dean would have said after his outburst. His whole life John Winchester’s word was law. His dad had never once admitted that he might be wrong. Hell, he’d been run off with a shot-gun over a slight differing of opinion with Bobby Singer. Dean had to pick the lead pellets out of Dad’s ass for him. They’d both been traumatize and agreed to never speak of it again. 

“You gotta let us help you, Dad,” Dean repeated, his face unreadable, but his eyes pained. 

John sighed heavily. “You can’t help. At least not yet. I’m being dogged at every turn and I still haven’t found something I need.”

Dean bit his lip, debating if he should address the implication that John was being hunted too or the mystery thing he needed. 

“What are you looking for?” he finally asked. 

“I can’t talk about it. This line isn’t secure,” John responded and shiver went up Jess’s spine. 

The idea of Big Brother spying on her life was creepy enough but the thought of a supernatural entity tapping their phone call and listening in was like ten times more disturbing. 

Dean thought on that awful little tidbit of information for a moment. His brow was furrowed, only smoothing out when he came to a decision. 

“You call if you need any help. You call when you have whatever it is you’re looking for. And you call the moment you have a bead on the demon.” 

Jess couldn’t help but raise a doubtful eyebrow. John Winchester didn’t seem like the kind of man that would take kindly to his son bossing him around. 

Apparently this was a phone call of firsts, because he grudgingly answered, “Alright.” He was gritting his teeth, Jess could hear it. It sounded painful. “Alright, Dean. I’ll call.” 

A breath gusted out of Dean, whether it was relief or lingering frustration, she couldn’t tell. Probably a combination of both. 

“I got a hunt for you. Take down these names.” There was barely a heartbeat of space between his acquiescence and this old habit. His tone was all business again. Jess figured his pride could only take so much so he went back to his comfort zone. Cryptic orders and a bare minimum of information. 

Jess didn’t know what was more unhelpful and annoying; a set of seemingly random coordinates or a list of seemingly random names. Six to one, half dozen to the other. 

Jess collapsed back down to the bed with a huff and quickly had to press a hand to her mouth. Her nausea had come back full force now that the excitement was over. 

Dean fumbled around in the bedside table for a motel pen and paper. The bed jiggled with his movements. When he sat back down from kneeling on the bed, the mattress gave a bounce and Jess lost the fight with last night’s alcohol. 

She just barely made to the toilet and spewed a good half a bottle of tequila into the bowl just as Dean hung up the phone and tore off the sheet of paper with their new John given assignment. 

*

Jess knew it was little childish but she couldn’t help making her displeasure known. So maybe she hadn’t said anything out loud, but her crossed arms and her tense scowl was a pretty obvious indicator. Sure people were apparently disappearing once a year from this one little stretch of highway in Indiana like its own Midwest Bermuda Triangle. But that didn’t make her any happier with John Winchester’s high handed dictation. 

She had to admit that letting John do all the work hunting down the thing that killed Sam was chafing and the fact that Dean hadn’t put up too much of a fight about it kind of pissed her off. Okay she was pissed a lot. She’d left her comfortable college life behind her to find John Winchester and to kill the thing that killed Sam. Now they were so close to at least accomplishing one of those goals and the man himself had the gall to order them not to follow. And Dean had the gall to agree without consulting her. 

They were partners, damn it. They were supposed to discuss everything between them. 

“You know I can practically hear you steaming over there.” 

“Yeah well,” Jess scowled even deeper. “I’m not making much of an effort to be quiet about it.” 

Dean sighed and roughly rubbing a hand down his face, his other hand steady on the steering wheel. “You know as well as I do that if Dad didn’t want to be found we weren’t going to find him.” 

Jess huffed out a breath, not happy with how logical that was. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean that I can’t be pissed about it.” 

“Not saying you shouldn’t. You don’t think I’m chomping at the bit to follow that area code to California and hunt him down, as well?” 

Jess looked at him sharply in surprise. Dean just rolled his eyes at her. 

“I’ve been all over every state in the lower forty-eight. I know my damn area codes.” 

Conceding the point, Jess finally let her arms uncross as her tense shoulders slumped. She shifted down in her seat to a more comfortable position. “I’m still pissed,” she grumbled. 

“Me too. But people are dying and Dad seems to think he’s got everything under control. Besides,” he grinned a little, “I made him swear to call. Judging by the sound of grinding teeth, he’ll do it no matter how much it’ll chafe.”

Jess couldn’t stop her own grin. “Gotta admit, that was kinda badass.” 

Dean let out a mildly hysterical chuckle. “Tell you the truth, I was half expecting him to reach through phone and smack me upside the head.” 

Laughing, Jess reached across and punched him in the arm. “Still. Badass.”

Snorting, Dean batted her fist away and stretched into his customary sprawl behind the wheel, slouched in his seat, left leg bent at the knee, left arm resting against the window. “Tell me about the disappearances.” 

Snatching up the haphazard file they’d put together before hitting the road, Jess paged through it. “Three different couples all disappeared in the second week of April.”

“No relation between any of them?”

Jess hummed and flipped to the missing person reports they found. “Nope. Different cities, different states. Only thing similar is they were all on a cross country road trip that took them straight through the same part of Indiana.” 

Dean frowned in thought. “We don’t usually have to deal with couples. That’s weird.” 

“Weirder than anything else we’ve had to deal with?” She raised her eyebrow at him doubtfully. 

“Yeah, okay. But it’s different at least.” He waved a hand at her to go back to the file. “Anything special about when they disappeared?”

Shuffling the reports around, Jess wracked her brain. “Not off the top of my head. But that’s pretty specific, the second week of April.” 

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “that’s important. We got any books in the trunk you think will help?”

“Not sure,” Jess murmured distractedly. “Something’s nagging at me, but I can’t put my finger on it.” 

“Concentrate on what we know. It’ll come eventually.” 

“Okay.” She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and refocused. “So we got couples disappearing in the middle of Indiana on the second week of April. What does that tell us?” 

Dean tapped his thumb against the leather on the steering wheel, the face of his watch glinting in the sunlight. 

“I’m thinking it smells like a ritual.” 

Jess perked up, interest piqued. “Ooh, we haven’t done a ritual before.” 

Snorting at her enthusiasm, Dean shook his head in amusement. “Don’t get too excited. They’re a pain in the ass. It’s usually idiots playing with things they shouldn’t be.” 

Still, Jess was already sifting through the admittedly patchy knowledge she’s accrued on their journey and listing which books in the trunk she should look through. She knew she shouldn’t be so excited since people were dying and they were going to hunt evil, but hey, she couldn’t help it. Her fascination was hard to suppress. 

“How long ‘til we get to Burketsville?” she asked studying the beat up map of Indiana she’d pulled out of the glovebox. The little town was right smack dab in the middle the assumed supernatural Midwest Bermuda Triangle of evil. 

Dean glanced at his watch then turned his eyes back on the road. “Should get there mid-afternoon.” 

“Oh, good! Time to snoop around.” 

Shaking his head, Dean decided not to chide her again. Besides, he had to admit that a little bit of a challenge sounded like fun. It was always nice to mix it up a little. Keeps you on your toes. 

*

Burketsville was peaceful and picturesque and perfect in a Stepford way. Immediately the hairs on the back of Jess’s neck stood on end and one look at Dean told her he was just as wary. 

They decided to split up and cover more ground. 

Dean scanned the view of the shops outside his window and tightened his jaw. He didn’t like the feeling he was getting at all. 

“Do you want the diner or the general store?”

Jess peered around him out the window and the windshield biting her lip. She was getting a serious Twilight Zone vibe.

“Diner guy looks like a grump.”

Dean shot her a smirk. “You can take the diner then and I’ll scope out the store.”

Jess huffed and scowled but didn’t protest as she shoved her door open and climbed out. Dean at least waited until she had made it to the sidewalk before he pulled away and drove down the street toward the tiny local general store. 

The scowly grumpy man sitting under the _Scotty’s_ sign silently watched her walk over. Jess flashed him her best friendly smile. 

“Hi! I was wondering if you’ve seen a couple friends of mine.” Jess kept her body language casual and open, projecting harmless concerned friend as she pulled out a copy of the last victims’ missing persons reports. “They were supposed to be on a road trip, but they just disappeared.”

She handed the sheets over to a suspicious looking Scotty bitting her lip worriedly. “We’ve already been up and down this stretch of highway, but nobody in any of the other towns had seen them.” 

Scotty stayed seated as he took the sheets and barely even glanced at them. His gaze was pinned on Jess with a calculating expression that made the hairs on the back of her neck quiver. She had to work to keep her calm expression in place. 

“Never seen them before,” Scotty grumbled handing the pictures back. “We don’t get many strangers around here.” 

“Oh.” Jess folded the pictures up and shoved them in her back pocket. “Well, that’s…” not something sketchy townspeople say in horror films, nope, not at all, “a shame. We’ve been searching for months.” 

Scotty studied her for another long moment skimming his eyes up and down her body in a way that made Jess think of how a butcher might size up a calf. 

“What did you say your name was?” 

Jess forced her smile to stay on her face as she made herself look as innocent and trusting as possible. “Bonnie Tyler. And you must be Scotty,” she answered gesturing to the sign hanging above the door.

“Bonnie Tyler, like the singer?” Scotty raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah,” Jess chuckled stiffly. “My parents were fans.” 

Suddenly Scotty’s creased face curved up into what Jess figured was supposed to be a welcoming smile. “Since you came all this way for nothing, why don’t you come in and I’ll get you a piece of apple pie. You can wait for you boyfriend to come back.” 

“Oh, he’s not my-” Jess cut herself off and took a close look at the practically perfect expression on Scotty’s face. His eyes were sharp with calculation. “Sure,” she said. “I could do with some pie.” 

His smile grew sharper and he led the way into the diner. Jess discretely pressed a hand to Sam’s gun sitting against her ribcage and followed him. Whatever was going on, Scotty knew more than he was telling and Jess couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some information.

The smell of fresh backed apple pie hit her the moment she passed the threshold. Hey, she thought, if nothing else she’d get a piece of pie out of the deal. 

In the local general store across the other side of the town center, Dean was flashing the missing persons pictures around with similar results. That is, until a young girl lugging around a couple cardboard boxes leaned around the old man manning the store. 

“Don’t you remember them?” she asked flicking her eyes from the pictures to the old man. “They came through here last year. They were just married.”

And just like that the old man’s face lit up with recognition and he tapped his chin like he was surprised he hadn’t seen it before now. 

“Why, yes. I remember now. They were having car trouble,” he said looking up from the copied report, his face the picture of earnestness. “The mechanic fixed up their car and we gave them directions back to the highway.”

It was all so reasonable and believable. The way the old man just jumped into the explanation when the girl jogged his memory. After all the memory is the first thing to go with old age. Or so Dean’s been told. It made perfect sense that he wouldn’t remember some random couple from a year ago. And he was just so earnest, the little old general store owner. 

But, of course, Dean was a con man and you don’t con a con.

When Dean looked up at the old man’s face his own was the picture of hopeful eagerness. “You did? Can you tell me which way they went?”

The smile he got in return was all earnest helpfulness. He seemed to be full of all kinds of earnestness. “Of course, son. Just let me grab a pen and I’ll write that down for you.”

Dean remained the concerned friend while the old man wandered back around the counter to jot down the directions he’d so magnanimously offered to the missing couple. 

“Did they really not make it through their trip?” 

He turned toward the young girl still standing next to him. She looked genuinely worried and Dean thought it was safe to assume that whatever was going on she wasn’t involved. 

“Yeah.” He furrowed his brow trying to look appropriately sad about his missing friends. “They were supposed to meet up with us on the other side of the state, but they never showed.” 

“You and the girl you came with?” she asked innocently enough. 

Dean’s hackles rose, but his expression never changed. “Yeah. We were doing a kind of cross country meet up deal. How did you know I came with a girl?”

Emily, according to her necklace, didn’t seem to catch onto the fact that she was a wrong answer away from making his suspect list. 

She smiled at him. “It’s a small town,” she said, amused. “A strange couple drives into town in an awesome classic car and word travels fast.” 

Good answer. Dean will hold off on planning how to gank her along with the rest of the suspicious townspeople. For now.

“Here you go, son.”

Dean turned back to the old man and took the small slip of paper with possibly damning directions written on it in neat old person handwriting. 

“Hope that helps,” the old man said, his face still the picture of earnest concern. 

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, “I’m sure it will.”

In Scotty’s diner, Jess was being plied with fried chicken and maybe the best apple pie she’d ever had. 

It was kind of hard to concentrate on how uncomfortable Scotty’s occasionally proprietary gaze made her feel. Seriously, the pie was that good.

She knew she really shouldn’t be eating the possibly evil people food, but she was suddenly really hungry. They’d skipped lunch and the fried chicken was breaded just how she liked it...

She should stop. Wasn’t there something about not eating the evil cult’s food or you can never leave the creepily perfect town they lived in? Oh wait, maybe that was faeries.

Still, Scotty hadn’t taken his eyes off her since he’d set the glass of really good iced tea next to her plate and it was starting to make the food sit heavy in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling he was watching to make sure she ate every single bite. Clean her plate like her mom told her to when she was a kid. 

The bell over the door jingled and Jess looked up from her probably enchanted apple pie to see Dean saunter in like they weren’t in the middle of enemy territory. 

“Let me guess.” He grinned at the creepy staring diner owner. “You must be Scotty.”

Immediately the food was like a lead weight in Jess’s gut even as a wave of relief washed through her. 

“Dean!” She dropped her silverware with a loud clatter and ungracefully scampered out of her seat. “Tell me you found out something about our friends.”

Dean’s eyes snapped toward her. In a glance he took in her panicked eyes, the plate of overflowing food on the table, and the mouthwatering slice of apple pie. For a split second, his eyes darkened to that deadly hunter look before it disappeared again. 

“Good news!” He pulled a crookedly folded slip of paper from his pocket and brandished it at her triumphantly. “The guy at the general store remembered them. He gave me the directions how they went back to the highway.” 

Jess couldn’t get really excited feeling like she had a rock in her stomach. “Awesome. Let’s go now. Maybe we can hit the next town before nightfall.” 

She was rounding the table and trying to rush toward Dean without actually appearing to rush. Five more feet and she would be within arm’s reach, but Scotty suddenly stood up from his seat between her and the door. And consequently Dean

“But you can’t leave until you finish your meal,” Scotty protested trying to sound earnest. He turned to Dean. “And you must eat something as well. You shouldn’t be driving on an empty stomach.”

Dean flashed a bright slightly simple smile at him as he reached out a hand toward Jess. She latched onto his hand and let him tug her past Scotty and the last few feet to his side. 

“Nah, I’m not hungry. Finished a whole bag of corn chips on the drive in.” His smile was just as earnest as creepy Scotty’s. “Thank you though.”

Turning to Jess, Dean squeezed her hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s hit the road.” 

Scotty looked like he was going to protest again, but Dean was already towing Jess to the door and ushering her out ahead of him. 

He kept a hold on her hand the short walk back to where he’d parked the Impala, and Jess didn’t protest. His reassuring grip on her was making her stomach roll, but it was also keeping the nervous jitters from wracking her body. 

Dean walked her around to the passenger side and opened the door for her, his eyes discretely surveying their surroundings. She fell into the seat and worked to keep herself looking as natural as possible in case Scotty was watching them through the diner’s big picture windows. Which he was. 

Wasting absolutely no time, Dean was in the driver’s seat and the Impala was on the outskirts of Burketsville in the shortest amount of time possible without actually breaking the speed limit. 

Jess waited another five minutes before she swallowed heavily and choked out, “Pull over.”

Dean jerked the wheel and the vibration of the tires on gravel was the last straw on Jess’s control. She had the door open just in time for her to fall out onto the ground and stumble three feet away before she started throwing up perfectly fried chicken and award winning apple pie. 

She swayed on her feet then a heavy warm callused hand settled on the back of her neck comfortingly. Jess took one of her hands off her knees, it was doing a poor job of holding her steady anyway, and grabbed roughly at Dean. He let her get a fistful of his t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He kept her steady with one hand and pulled her pony tail away from her face with the other. 

Another rolling wave of nausea hit her and Jess was grateful for his consideration because she really didn’t want to have to deal with murderous cult food vomit in her hair. She gagged again. 

It felt like a long time before her stomach was finally empty and all that was coming up was burning acid. A couple of weak spits, a pitiful whimper, and Jess was done projectile vomiting on the side of the road in nowhere Indiana.

Dean comfortingly stroked his callused thumb along the side of her neck. “You all done?”

“Yeah,” she rasped and spit one last time for good measure. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Come on.” He helped her straighten up, but kept a steadying hold on her elbow as he guided her back to the Impala. “We’ve got some water in the car and I think there’s a granola bar in there somewhere too.” She whined in the back of her burning throat. “It’ll help settle your stomach, don’t be a baby.” 

She gave him a halfhearted scowl as he dropped her to sit sideways in the seat, her feet still on the gravel shoulder. “Your bedside manner is astounding.” 

Dean just rolled his eyes at her and rummaged around in the ancient mint green cooler in the backseat. “I’m not the one that ate suspect evil cult food.” 

Jess grabbed the wet chilled bottle of water he passed her and leaned her head tiredly against the door jamb. “Yeah, okay. That one’s on me.” 

“What were you thinking anyway?” Dean asked as he pawed around in the plastic gas station bags on the floor looking for the aforementioned granola bar. His voice held a stiff edge and Jess bit her lip as a trickle of shame joined the dregs of nausea still simmering in her gut. 

He was disappointed in her and that, to her horror, combined with of the worry about the possibly poisoned food and the force of spewing it all up again made her eyes burn. 

“I don’t know. He just seemed suspicious and I thought I could get more out of him so I went inside. Then before I knew it he was shoving food at me and I was eating it.” 

Dean straightened back out of the backseat and passed her as slightly beat up but unopened granola bar. She took it silently and busied herself tearing it open, blinking her eyes hard until the burning went away. 

Unfortunately, Dean had noticed the random speck of nonexistent dust that had flown into her eye and he shifted uncomfortably. 

“Don’t beat yourself up too much about it,” he offered as she took a morose bite of her half crumbling granola. “I’m pretty sure there was probably some kind of cultist mojo involved. Coulda happened to anyone.” 

Jess snorted and took another bite. “Thanks,” she said but looked at him with a doubtful expression in her eyes, “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better.”

“Well,” Dean changed the subject, “finish your hippy bar. We still got a few miles to go before the orchard the old man very specifically mentioned. Gotta try and get there while it’s still daylight.”

Jess shoved the last bite in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of her water. Her nausea was almost gone and by the time Dean got back in the driver’s seat she was ready to get back to business. 

They drove for another fifteen minutes, the sun starting to set casting the sky dark orange before they finally hit the orchard. Before Dean could pull over his engine sputtered and died. 

There was dead silence in the car for a long moment, Dean staring incredulously at the front of the car and Jess staring confusedly at Dean. 

“Uh…”

“Those dicks messed with my car!” He was out of the car and shoving the hood up before Jess could even blink. 

She looked from the shiny black hood blocking the view out of the windshield to the apple orchard out her window. 

It was darker than the land surrounding it. A fine mist was floating over the ground, and there wasn’t a single sound of birds in the air. The trees looked sturdy and healthy, but there was an almost colorless quality to them. Like the brown of the bark and the green of the leaves were muted by the heavy atmosphere. 

It reminded her of Black Water Ridge, 35-111.

Cautiously she opened her door and climbed out not taking her eyes off the apple trees. 

“Uh, Dean?” She closed the door, the squeaky sound covered Dean’s offended mutters for a second. “Dean.”

“I can’t believe those dicks-”

“Dean!”

“What!”

He pulled his head out the engine and looked up at her impatiently. Jess just pointed at the orchard. 

“Look.”

Dean turned, looked, and immediately straightened, his body going tense and ready. He closed the hood without taking his eyes off the orchard and came around to stand next to her. 

“What do you want to bet that whatever is taking those couples is living in those trees?”

Jess snorted. “No bet.” 

“Yeah, me neither.” Dean nudged her, a light smack on her arm with the back of his hand. “Come on. Let’s get some guns out of the trunk and go exploring.” 

Great, Jess sighed and followed him to the arsenal. Apparently she was about to go trudging into some more deep dark woods. Awesome, she can’t wait.

Dean pulled out their two best shotguns and Jess helped him load them up with consecrated iron rounds. He was betting on whatever they were hunting was going to be corporeal so iron was about ninety percent more effective than rock salt. And if they were wrong iron worked just as well on the spirits too. 

There was a little decorative fence standing just outside the orchard with a tall simply adorned arched marking the entrance. Stepping underneath it sent a shiver up Jess’s spine and she gripped her shotgun tighter. The sun was almost down to the horizon and the dusk grew chilly. The quiet around them became more oppressive and they fell into formation. Dean in front and Jess in back, each covering their positions diligently. 

They marched deeper into the creepy ass orchard. Deeper and deeper, the sound of leaves crunching under foot eerily muffled and the colors growing more and more washed out ‘til everything looked almost black and white. Except for the apples. Those still looked bright and shiny red. Almost Technicolor.

“Is it just me or are you half expecting the trees to come alive and start pelting us with fruit like the _Wizard of Oz_ , too?”

Dean flicked an amused glance over his shoulder. “Just don’t try and eat one. There’s some bad mojo in here.” 

“Don’t worry,” Jess muttered. “I think I’m off apples for a very long time.” 

He snorted in disgust. “Freakin’ crime. Sullying a good apple pie like that.” 

“What do you think they did to the pie?” Jess asked. She figured it was safe to assume that whatever was going on was centered on the apples. Considering the orchard was like a setting for an ax murder.

“Probably didn’t do much to them,” Dean answered his eyes constantly scanning the trees around them. “The effects would have shown up by now if there some kind of curse on the food. No, they were feeding you a feast for something else.” 

“Great,” Jess grumbled. “That makes me feel so much better.” 

“It should.” Dean turned and looked at her full on. “If the food had been cursed, puking it all up wouldn’t have saved you.” 

Jess took in his dark gaze, his tense shoulders, and the tight clench of his jaw. She gave him a reassuring smile and took a hand off her gun long enough to squeeze his forearm. “I’m fine, Dean. I had a little teenage bulimia moment, but I’m fine now.” 

He huffed and moved his gaze back on their surroundings. Jess returned her hand to her gun and he faced forward again leading the way into a clearing. “Just remember, no more eating the food from the evil cultists.” 

“Got it.” Jess nodded her lips curving a little at the corners. “Stranger danger, don’t take the candy and don’t get into the white windowless unmarked van.” 

Dean’s chuckle was cut off as he finally stepped into the clearing. He stopped abruptly and Jess moved cautiously to stand next to him and see what had his attention. 

“That,” Jess breathed staring up at the thing in the center of the clearing, “is possibly the creepiest thing I have ever seen.”

“Five bucks says that’s not just to scare away the birds.” 

“No bet.” 

The scarecrow was man shaped, man proportioned, which looked all kinds of not right. Its face was sewn up like something out of a horror movie knitting circle, its clothes were tattered and torn, and it actually had an honest to God scythe in one hand. 

The only reason Jess wasn’t pulling the trigger on it yet was because it seemed inanimate so far. _Seemed_ being the operative word.

Dean started to walk forward. Jess’s hand shot out, latching onto his jacket before she even registered moving. 

“Where are you going?”

He looked back at her and patted her hand lightly. “Just getting a closer look. Watch my six.” 

Reluctantly she released her hold and white knuckled her shotgun again. She looked back at the scarecrow. “Oh, that is a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, probably.” Dean sauntered over to one of the rickety looking wooden ladders standing under one of the apple trees and towed it over to the scarecrow hanging on its cross. 

Jess stepped further into the clearing and took up position about ten feet away from the scarecrow as Dean started climbing up the ladder to get a closer look at the thing. She didn’t take her eyes off of it, ready to fill it full of iron the moment it moved. 

Dean reached eye level and stared it right in the face. “Dude, you fugly.”

Jess snorted, feeling a little uneasy about him insulting possibly murderous things. “Any other astute observations, Dean?”

“Hold your horses,” he called over his shoulder looking the thing over. “I’m working on it.” 

Jess growled under her breath, “Hurry. The sun’s almost down.” It was getting darker and she didn’t think they wanted to be stuck in the creepy orchard with the creepy scarecrow with just flashlights to see by.

“Just a sec.” Dean tugged at something on the thing’s arm then reached out behind him making a grabby motion. “Hand me that picture of the dude.” 

Pulling the picture from her jacket pocket Jess hurried over and pressed it into his palm before backing off again to a relatively more comfortable distance. He flipped it open one handed and held it up for a comparison. 

A long moment of quiet then Dean was hurriedly shoving the picture in his pocket and jumping down from the ladder. Gripping his shotgun, he backed toward her keeping the scarecrow in his line of sight. 

Jess tensed and followed his lead heading for the tree line before he even made it even with her. “What? What is it?”

“It’s got a pretty nice tat for a stuffed bag of straw. I’m guessing it didn’t come by it honestly.” 

It took her a second, but she got there in the end. “Oh, gross!”

“Yep.”

The last rays of sunlight were gone and the moon was almost full lighting the orchard well enough to see. Perfectly well enough to see the scarecrow turn its head toward them. 

Dean shoved her into the trees. “Run.” The scarecrow broke the ropes tying it to its cross and jumped down from its perch. “Run!”

Jess turned just as Dean pulled the trigger and blasted the scarecrow in the chest with a load of iron pellets. It didn’t slow it down more than a hair. 

They bolted, running full tilt back to the car. Jess was a step behind Dean not bothering to worry about anything other than trying to keep up with his long powerful strides. She may have been in track in high school but Dean had been running for his life from things, stronger and faster than humans since he was a child. He had somewhat of an advantage on her. 

But she was a fast learner and when you have the motivation of not being skinned and eaten by an evil scarecrow you found out you could break the speed of sound if you pushed. 

Out of the corner of her eye Jess caught movement, heard a breathy echoing moan. She raised her shotgun and shot the scarecrow in the side just as it started the raise its scythe to slash at her. The blast stuttered its movement and Jess put on another burst of speed drawing even with Dean. 

There was a branch right in the middle of the path that hadn’t been there before and they vaulted over it without a pause. It made a loud crack as the scarecrow just bulldozed on through and Dean twisted his torso enough to blast it in the chest again slowing it down and they were able to lunge under the metal archway and out of the orchard. 

Jess couldn’t slow down fast enough and she skidded on the gravel outside the orchard ‘til she bounced off the side of the Impala. Bracing herself against the cool steel she spun around and brought up her shotgun leveling it with practiced hands. Dean had stopped a foot before the Impala his stance tense, his gun raised, his eyes narrowed.

There was another low raspy moan through the air. The scarecrow had stopped on the edge of the tree line, half hidden in the shadows. It just stared at them with its stitched up, dried, leathery human skin face. A long moment of absolute stillness then a cloud just barely touched the light of the moon and the scarecrow was gone.

Jess didn’t even know she’d been holding her breath until it all gusted out of her and she sucked in another lung full. 

“Well,” she panted, her heart still pounding in her chest, her hands tremoring minutely. “That was exciting.” 

Dean snorted and dropped his stance, propping his gun on his shoulder. “It was something alright.” 

“I don’t know about you,” Jess said, slumping against Baby and dropping her head back against the roof, “but I’ll never be able to watch the _Wizard of Oz_ the same way again.” 

“Brings a whole new meaning to, ‘If I only had a brain’.” 

Jess knocked her head against the roof with a groan.

Chuckling, Dean nodded toward the car. “Come on, Dorothy. We’ve got a cannibalistic scarecrow to research and kill.”

Oh joy.

*

The internet was as good as useless when it came to researching animate man eating scarecrows. Pretty much all they came across were stoner conspiracy theories about the darker allusions and subtext to the _Wizard of Oz_. The results were a little better when they started typing “male/female sacrifice” into the search engines. Still it was less than helpful. 

Luckily, Dean knew what he was doing and Jess had pretty much subsumed herself in lore and mythology when she wasn’t running around after him torching corpses and getting tossed around by ghosts. 

When they turned to the admittedly limited library in the Impala’s trunk it was pretty easy to at least confirm what they’d already pretty much figured out about the situation so far. 

“Male-Female couples that have to be sacrificed in a small window of time. An orchard of evil apples. And force feeding the offerings.” Jess flipped through a leather-bound book that was starting to come apart at the seams. “And that all adds up to?”

“Pagan god sacrifice,” Dean answered promptly. “The timeline is right in between the spring equinox and summer solstice. Big pagan events.”

“While Scotty was sizing me up like a piece of meat and feeding me like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, he mentioned their apple pie has been awarded the best pie in the state like every year running.” Jess looked up from her book and propped her elbow on the table, her chin on the heel of her hand. “I’m guessing the god is some kind of crop protector. Plentiful harvest, pest and disease protection, prosperous town, ect.” 

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “Makes perfect sense. Dad only found four couples, but who knows how long the town’s been doing delivery for this thing.”

“You said the general store guy was acting shady and obviously Scotty’s in charge of the last meal.” Jess bit her lip, her brows furrowed when a really bad thought came to her. “How far do you actually think it goes? Is it just a couple of people getting ambitious or…”

“Or is it the whole town.” Hissing through his teeth unhappily, Dean shoved his father’s journal away from him and rubbed his palm over his mouth in thought. “Now that’s a comforting thought. An entire town of pagans willingly sacrificing people to some kind of god.” 

“Everything I’m reading,” Jess said, “says sacrifices can be food, animals, or worldly riches, too. They don’t have to be throwing unsuspecting couples at this thing.” 

“Yeah, well. Obviously they went for a little more kick to the supernatural takeout.” Dean stood up and stretched pulling his shirt over his head in a smooth gesture. “We’re not gonna get anything more done right now. I’m gonna hit the hay.” 

Jess’s eyes got caught on the scattered stark white of old scars on his skin and the dark brown of more recent ones dotting over his chest and back. His muscles rolled and glided under the skin of his back as he tossed his shirt at his duffle and started rummaging around for his dopp and his sweats. 

Pulling her eyes away, Jess closed her book and pulled her legs up to sit Indian style in her chair. “We hitting the university library tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

Jess watched his naked back and freckled shoulders until he disappeared behind the bathroom door then she got up and headed for her own bed. 

The next day should be interesting, she thought as she climbed under the covers and listened the sounds of Dean puttering around in the bathroom. She hadn’t gotten much of a chance to delve into the pagan areas of hunting and she was always eager to learn more. Other than the human skin stealing scarecrow this was proving to be a pretty fascinating hunt so far. 

Dean came out of the bathroom still shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips. He flopped backward on his bed, checking his gun on the nightstand and his knife under his pillow before he switched off the light and the room fell into darkness. 

Rolling over to face the wall, Jess closed her eyes, ready for the next day and its promised research to come. 

*

It took longer than it should have to find out exactly which kind of god they were looking for. Apparently there were hundreds of different kinds of gods associated with crops and harvests and forest protection from dozens of different pantheons of paganism. After about two hours of dredging through dry dusty tomes of gods that were not the one they were looking for, Dean finally got the idea to research of actual history of Indiana. 

Once they figured out that Scandinavian immigrants pretty much settled that entire part of the state it was pretty easy to narrow down the hunt to the vanir. Bringers of youth, prosperity, protection, and fertility. 

“That’s why the male and female sacrifices,” Jess murmured thoughtfully. “It’s part of some kind of fertility ritual.” 

“Does it say how to kill it?” Dean asked from his place standing behind her reading over her shoulder.

“No. Just says they usually live in some kind of tree.” Jess tilted her head back against his stomach looking up at him almost upside down. “I’m gonna take a leap of logic and guess this one’s probably an apple tree.” 

Dean snorted and glanced down matching her dry expression. “What gave it away?”

Jess smiled and tilted her back down to the massive fully illustrated book in front of her. It was opened to the appropriate entry; the text was old English style and the picture of a scarecrow-like figure hanging planted in a field was almost as creepy as the real thing. “So… Salt and burn?”

His lips quirked up in amusement and Dean nodded. “Salt and burn.”

*

Unfortunately, by the time they got out of the library and headed back to the orchard of death, the sun was sinking again. 

Jess scowled as she loaded up her sawed-off with iron rounds and grabbed up a burlap sack of rock salt. 

“You ever notice how we end up doing ninety percent of the dangerous parts of hunting in the dark?”

Dean smirked at her and slammed the trunk closed, his own sawed-off propped against his shoulder as he picked up the red can of gasoline they’d stopped to fill up on the way there. 

“Less chance of being noticed by civilians or cops and the freaks always come out at night,” he replied, not seeming in the least bit perturbed by this fact. “Fucks with your sleep schedule, but you get used to it eventually.”

Jess huffed annoyed by his nonchalance, but nonetheless, she followed him under the arch and back into the apple scented jaws of death.

No sooner had they moved three rows of creepy trees into the orchard then they heard it; a young girl’s voice screaming for help. They shared a split second look then went running. 

They ran all the way into almost the exact center of the orchard barely twenty yards past the scarecrow that, thankfully, seemed to still be inert for now. 

“Oh, thank God!” A young girl, barely in her late teens if that, was trussed up like an offering and roped to an apple tree. Next to her, scowling darkly while relaxing against his own tree was a teenage boy. “You’ve got to get me out of here!”

“Emily?” Dean asked puzzled. Jess shot him a look. “The girl from the general store. Sketchy owner’s niece,” he explained

“They’ve gone crazy.” Emily tugged urgently at her ropes, her wrists already raw from struggling. “They just tied us up and said they were going to sacrifice us to some kind of god.” 

“Hate to tell you this, sister.” Dean dropped the gas can, pulled his bowie knife from its sheath at his lower back, and crouched to cut her ropes. “But the god’s real and the townspeople have been sacrificing people to it since the town was founded.” 

Emily rubbed some feeling back into her wrists as Dean helped her to her feet. “That couple you were asking about?”

“Yep,” Dean nodded and turned toward the boy to release him too. “That ugly ass scarecrow back there with a nice tattooed patch of skin hanging off its arm was a pretty good clue.”

“Oh god.” Emily held her clenched hands close to her chest and swallowed thickly. 

Jess had been watching the teenage boy while Dean and the girl talked. There was something about his silence, about his angry expression that didn’t sit well with her. She was right to be suspicious because the moment Dean had cut the ropes the boy lunged and knocked Dean to the ground. 

On reflex Jess had her shotgun aimed and she just barely stopped herself from pulling the trigger. She remembered that it wasn’t loaded with rock salt then and the kid wasn’t actually a supernatural creature. Getting a back full of lead from that range would probably kill him. Not to mention Dean was within range too. 

Emily yelped and stumbled away from the tussle. The boy threw a wild punch at Dean which he blocked like he was swatting a fly. In a swift move, Dean had their positions switched with the kid on his belly face first into the dirt, his arm wrenched so far back his shoulder was on the verge of dislocation. 

“What the hell is your problem!” Dean growled holding the struggling little shit down without any effort whatsoever. 

Jess wanted to demand the exact same thing after she smacked him around a bit first. She took extreme exception to anyone trying to hurt Dean. 

“You’re ruining everything!” the kid shouted muffled by the leaves in his mouth. “The god demands his offering.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. “Kid, you do realize that thing is gonna take your face and wear it like scarf, right?”

The boy sneered at Dean as much as he could on his belly still eating dirt. “It is an honor to be given to the Vanir in sacrifice.”

They all looked at the boy incredulously until Dean drawled, “Right,” and punched him in the face knocking him out for the count. He stood and snatched up his gun again.

“Has the entire town gone insane?” Emily shrieked looking overwhelmed. 

“They’ve been sacrificing people to this thing for at least a hundred years, so the insanity is probably not a new thing.” 

Jess suddenly realized that it had grown dark around them and it had gotten unsettlingly quiet. She gripped her shotgun tight and looked back where the scarecrow’s cross was standing in the middle of the clearing. It was empty. 

“Dean! The scarecrow’s gone.”

His head snapped around looking past her. “Shit. We gotta move. Go, run!” 

He grabbed Emily’s arm and yanked her along, Jess bringing up the rear covering their six. 

They didn’t even make it ten yards when the scarecrow god appeared in front of them and raised its scythe. Emily screamed and Dean pulled the trigger. The scarecrow stumbled back a step and they veered off to the right picking up speed. 

Jess caught movement in her peripheral and turned the gun and fired not even bothering to aim. It was so close, there was no way the shotgun’s scatter missed. 

They broke through the trees in another clearing and skidded to a stop when they were suddenly lit up with flashlights ahead of them. Jess looked right and left and hissed in frustration. 

“Back! Go, back!” They turned back around, but their way was blocked as more townspeople appeared out of the dark with flashlights and guns of their own. 

Jess’s eyes flicked through the crowd in panic. They were running for their lives through a carnivorous god’s orchard and were surrounded by human sacrificing assholes. They were so fucked right now. 

“Everything was working out fine. Why did you have to stick your nose into it?” the goddamn town sheriff demanded. Un-freaking-believable. 

Dean shrugged carelessly, like he wasn’t in the middle of a ring of armed and angry pagans. “I got a problem with serving up people to a bloodthirsty god on a silver platter. Seems like I’m doing your job for you, Sheriff.” 

The sheriff growled and racked his shotgun. 

Jess’s mind was going a mile a minute trying to think of a way they can get out of this. She was coming up with nothing. She and Dean were back to back with Emily sandwiched between them, but they were good and surrounded with a hungry god roaming in the trees around them. Things looked pretty bleak at the moment. 

“Uncle Harley?” Emily was looking at an older man who was looking at her with regret. “Please let us go.”

“I’m so sorry, Emily. It’ll be over quickly I promise.” There was an older woman standing next to him and she looked like she was trying to seem just as regretful, but Jess thought she wasn’t exactly hitting the mark. Bitch.

“Please, let us go,” Emily begged, though Jess could tell she didn’t have much hope. It was pretty apparent her uncle thought apple pie was more important than his own flesh and blood. 

Uncle Harley, grimaced and begged, “Emily, for the good of the town, you have to let him take you. You have to-”

And a scythe suddenly appeared sticking out through the guy’s chest. Then it was chaos. The old lady beside him stared in horror and started screaming. 

The townspeople were shouting and screaming and scattering like roaches in the light. Jess hadn’t even realized she was soccer mom-ing Emily with a protective arm across her chest until she felt the girl gripping her forearm, fingernails digging sharply into her skin. 

The scarecrow yanked the scythe out of Uncle Harley’s back the old man’s body falling to the ground, then it grabbed the woman in a chokehold. It stabbed the scythe through Uncle Harley’s Achilles heal and started dragging them both back into the dark depths of the orchard. The old woman screaming the whole way.

“Come on!” Dean ordered, stretching an arm across Emily and planting his hand on Jess’s chest to shove her backward toward the orchard entrance. Jess kept her hold on Emily and dragged her along. “Let’s go!” 

They didn’t stop until Jess had shoved Emily into the backseat and lunged into the car herself. Dean gunned the engine spraying gravel and burning rubber out of there.

*

The smell of burning pagan god apple tree was surprisingly pleasant. You’d think since it had been inhabited by a people eating Scandinavian god for probably hundreds of years, it would smell rancid with the evil that had soaked into its roots. But no, it smelled like apple wood smoke and Christmas apple smoked ham. Jess was getting kinda hungry despite the fact that she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to look at an apple for a good long while. 

If this hunt induced aversion to different foods kept up, there wasn’t going to be much diversity in her diet. She’d already had to cut out cake and now everything apple. What’s next? Celery? Chicken? Lollipops?

Dean caught her eye and nodded his head indicating they step back and let Emily hold vigil over the destruction of her home by herself. 

They walked a ways away and Dean leaned casually against an apple tree. Jess wrinkled her nose at that. No way was she touching one of them if she didn’t have to. 

“I’m going to text Dad and tell him the hunt’s done.” 

Jess looked away from the blazing tree and raised an eyebrow. “You think he actually still has his phones much less checks his messages?”

“He knew you were riding with me,” Dean said. “Only way he coulda known that was if he listened to my messages.” 

There were so many things she could say to that, all of them rude, so she held her tongue. She didn’t think Dean would appreciate being reminded right then that she thought his dad was kind of a dick. 

Jess bit her lip and thought about something else that had been nagging at her. “Do you believe he’ll actually be able to find the demon that killed Sam and your mom?”

Dean looked back at the burning tree just staring at it for a long quiet moment. Finally, he answered his expression serious and his voice steady. “If anyone can find the yellow eyed bastard, it’s my dad.”

She blew out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and absently tucked a flyaway behind her ear as she contemplated that. She may not have much faith in John Winchester despite knowing he was scary intelligent and driven to the point of obsession, but she trusted Dean. 

He’d been with her every waking moment, protecting her, giving her the strength to protect herself, to move on, to live again. There was no one else in the world she’d ever trusted more. So, no, she may not have complete faith in John’s ability to bring them their revenge, but she trusted Dean’s judgment to the ends of the earth. 

If he believed that his father would hunt down the evil that had destroyed all three of their lives then she believed it too.

“Okay,” she murmured letting the doubt and uncertainty evaporate from her shoulders. “Okay.”

Dean met her gaze, his green eyes gleaming sharply and his expression utterly fierce. “We’re going to kill it, Jess. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I don’t,” she whispered her eyes riveted on his. “I don’t doubt that one single bit.” 

Dean grinned like he was baring fang and she shivered, a thrill of anticipation buzzing under her skin. 

“Good,” he growled. “Good.”

They stood there surrounded by wood smoke, watching the tree burn, the orange flame almost hypnotizing. Stone cold certainty settled solid in Jess’s gut. She had no doubt that they’d slaughter the yellow eyed demon together. 

Her faith in Dean never wavered. 

*  
End


End file.
